Dark Desires
by A Lovestruck A2
Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup. Evil!Princess, rated M for mature
1. Planting the Seeds

_**A/N: I know, I know. 'Why are you writing another fucking Fable fic when you have so many other ones to get back on track?' Because I love the games, that's why :D**_

_**Warning for a manipulative and dark princess. This character is basically how I play XD**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Planting the Seeds***

Reaver was more than just the famous Hero of Skill and a notorious pirate. He was what many considered to be a man who had a way with the more promiscuous members of Albion's society. Men and women alike simply could not get enough of him when it came to bedroom activities and for good reason. The man was damn good. Not just with his prowess, but his ability to charm others into a mindless fantasy where every dirty little desire of theirs was granted.

Reaver was humming a very cheerful tune as he waited patiently in the throne room to meet with some of the king's other dignitaries when, to his pleasant surprise, the young princess herself decided to greet the court with her noble presence.

Princess Annabel was a woman who had caught Reaver's eye from the first moment he laid eyes on her, almost two years ago, and it wasn't just because she was the late Queen Sparrow's daughter. It was during an abysmal meeting with one of Mourningwood's repugnant residents, who had complained to the king about there not being any soldiers to keep them safe from the horrors that lurked just outside of their homes. The king was about to send in half of his armed forces from Bowerstone when she had suggested a more tempered reaction would be sufficient.

She caught almost everyone's eyes during her first ever court appearance. Logan had granted her a permanent spot in his council after that, showering her with lavish praise that would make Reaver himself blush.

Her head was held high as she went over to take her place next to the throne, her arms behind her back. Her elegance was radiant, her long brown locks neatly brushed and her makeup perfect, clad in her finest clothes. Many people saw her as the future queen when it was her time to take the throne. A time that did not seem that too far off, if Logan was to be believed. After an expedition to the distant desert land of Aurora a year ago, he had seemed to have grown more paranoid and it was weighing heavily on his mind.

Reaver of course hadn't been told the details, but the king had mentioned he talked to his sister about one day stepping down as king of Albion and letting her take the throne. He assured his advisors that the day he would was still plenty of time away, but something about the way the princess carried herself told Reaver otherwise and it wasn't just because she was Queen Sparrow's daughter.

She carried herself the way a leader does. Her words were able to inspire the court with ease, turning the tide into her brother's favour time and time again. For example when they met to discuss a law that put a limit on the amount of alcohol a person would be allowed to purchase daily, the princess was able to manipulate the law into affect despite many protests from the common rabble, showing how it would be more beneficial to the kingdom.

She glanced over at him and approached him. "Good day, Master Reaver. Waiting for the king as well?"

"Yes, your majesty," Reaver replied in a bored tone. "It is not like his grace to be tardy. He is usually...quite punctual for meetings with me." A devious smirk formed on his face as he thought of one of the many incidents he and the king had scheduled after the court was adjourned for the day. Bedding common whores in drunken orgies was one of the many things the two did together apart from managing a kingdom. Logan of course never told his sister about them, but Reaver was confident that she still was aware of them. The girl was unusually perceptive.

Reaver tapped his cane on the carpeted floor and let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose that he is growing weary of these tedious events. I can't say I fault him for it. The politics involved in his duty can wear on a person."

"Agreed." The princess nodded. "Ever since he came back from Aurora, I feel as though he has been unwell. Something out there unsettled him greatly. He isn't able to rest properly."

Reaver merely flashed her a sly look. "And do you feel as though you are ready, perhaps? Maybe you want to talk to him about becoming queen."

"No," Annabel replied coolly. "I'm afraid I still have much to learn before I can be the queen this country needs. Until that day comes, I am more than content to wait."

"Ambitious, are we?" The King of Thieves smirked.

"One has to have ambition if they are to get anywhere in their life. I may be the princess for now, but that does not mean I intend on staying one," Annabel answered. "There is little I would not do to make that ambition become a reality."

Now that got Reaver's attention. If there was one thing he enjoyed doing more than forcing miserable peasants to work gruelling hours in his factories, it was manipulation. Especially when the person involved was ambitious.

The princess was that person. Someone like her would not hesitate to swindle her way to the throne and she'd strike down anyone who stood in her way. Reaver could most definitely work with that.

With a smirk on his face he adjusted the top hat that covered his messy black hair. "Is that so? Well then, for someone such as yourself, you should have no trouble at all. Not at all, my dear."

"Oh?" The princess raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that, Master Reaver?"

"Please, my sweet, there is no need to be so formal when it is just the two of us," the King of Thieves cooed. "You are allowed to address me simply as Reaver." This is how he roped people in. He manipulated people into letting their guard down around him, starting off small such as allowing them to address him by name. Then, he showered them with praise, exaggerating their talents. Not a hard task to accomplish for a master like himself.

"Very well, Reaver." The princess smoothed out her dress, getting rid of a small wrinkle in the fine silks. "Could you elaborate on what you meant, please?"

"Of course, my little angel." Reaver's smirk never left his face. "You, my dear, have a remarkable ability to deal with this unpleasant rabble. They may not fully agree with you, but they all pay rapt attention and don't dare to question you. With the way you carry yourself in the court, you have the makings of being a fine leader."

That part was not an exaggeration or a lie by any means. The princess knew the time and place to either be commanding or persuasive, switching between the two with ease. A talent with words went a long way when it came to the royal court.

The faintest hint of a blush appeared on Annabel's cheeks and she looked away from him. "You flatter me too much. I am only playing my part and doing what I believe is beneficial to the kingdom."

"Or are you?" Reaver pressed on. "The nobles may never say it out loud for fear of being executed for treason, but they all are starting to look up to you much more than your brother nowadays. Haven't you notice how they only half-heartedly agree with him, but show much more vigour and enthusiasm with you?"

He had her exactly where he wanted to. Once he placed the thought of her being more suited for the throne than Logan in her head, it would continue to eat away at her until she gave into her ambitions. He would enjoy watching everything unfold, when the time came. For now though, the Pirate King was more than content to simply enjoy himself with a glass of wine and occasionally throw some more wood onto the fire.

"I suppose you are right," Annabel admitted. "They seem to have grown weary of him. Perhaps the time for a new leader is drawing closer than I initially expected."

"And you are that leader." Reaver placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her. "Think about it. The power at your fingertips, the ability to rule as you see fit. I can sense you yearning for it."

"Maybe." Annabel turned to face him and he noticed how her eyes grew dark. Gone were the beautiful pools of emerald green that servant boys and nobles swooned over; in their place was swirling black. A soulless void that would make the men and women serving as her subjects quake in fear like a frightened little lamb, devouring those who would dare to disobey her.

"But there is still one thing I need to do," she said, raising her hand. A ball of blue fire appeared in her palm and she sighed. "I need to make sure that when I'm ready to strike, I will not fail. The nobles already support me. All I need to do is ensure the common rabble will follow."

Like everyone else in the castle, Reaver had long since known that Annabel was a Hero like her mother. As the Hero of Skill, he could sense the magic that coursed through her body, and it was powerful. It rippled from her like a constant wave of energy, making his own blood feel more alive. He drank it in hungrily, almost purring in content. It was simply delicious.

"And what better way to start than by going down to the city to see for yourself?" Reaver let a slender finger slide down her neck, making her shiver. He hummed to himself, his warm breath blowing on her. "It will be a most momentous day for you, Annabel. Daughter of Sparrow."

The princess hesitated. She had of course never been down to the city, not since Logan took the throne. Her duties in the court and her training to use her powers often kept her occupied. But Reaver could taste her desire to escape from the castle. She was but a swan begging to spread its wings, tasting the freedom of the open air away from the fussing nobles and weary duels she had with the old soldier who had taken her under his tutelage.

"I'm not sure if that is most wise, Reaver," she finally answered. "At the present time, my brother needs me here. I cannot afford to go out gallivanting across Albion. I know I'm not strong enough."

"Maybe. But, how else does one gain experience?" Reaver asked, trying to hide just how proud he was of himself. Here he was, manipulating the princess's ambitions and using it as a weapon. A weapon that would bring in a new age for Albion. An age where people would be terrified of their ruler, rather than despising them. "You need only to be willing to take the next step. I've done my part. The rest is now in your hands. You can either be content with merely being the princess, cooped up in the castle like an animal, or you can go down to the city and worm your way into the hearts of the common folk, in time becoming the queen Albion so desperately yearns for."

The door to the throne room opened and in walked a dishevelled King Logan, followed by two of his royal guard. His royal armour was as shiny as always, however his hair was still a sloppy mess and he had dark rings of exhaustion circling his eyes. Reaver stepped away from the princess and winked at her.

To his delight, she winked back at him.

"Reaver. I do hope you were on your best behaviour with my sister." Logan scowled at him, one hand on the beautiful cutlass that dangled from his belt.

Reaver let out a gasp of mock hurt and bowed his head. Oh, the sorry bastard had no idea what was coming to him. "Your majesty, it offends to me to hear you insinuate that I would do anything to harm your younger sister. I can assure you; I have done nothing but simply give her advice for the matters of today's court."

Logan merely huffed and sat on his throne, crossing his arms across his chest. "Read the papers to me."

Reaver unravelled the piece of parchment and cleared his throat. "The matter at hand today is the future of the gypsy camp in Millfields. As you are aware, it is a historic site from which your very mother lived. However, the current residents, I feel, are dishonouring her name with their behaviours. Reports from your guards indicate that they are disfiguring the land, dumping their foul potions in Bower Lake itself. Action must be taken, your grace."

"I'm not going to force people out of their homes on just rumours and words." Logan's voice was little more than a growl.

"Brother, if I may?" Annabel piped up. This was her moment. "The soldiers patrolling Millfields are the ones you personally handpicked for the task. Some of them even fought alongside you when you aided the Swift Brigade three months ago. Surely you're not saying you don't trust them?"

"No, I do, but—"

"And what better way to preserve our mother's honour than by removing that which aims to slander it?" she pressed. "The residents of the gypsy camp do not provide any beneficial resources to the kingdom. It is far better for us to remove a limb rather than risk the spread of this disease. You heard it yourself; they are poisoning Bower Lake, one of our country's last pieces of natural beauty. I'm sure you would not hear any complaints from the residents of Millfields if you were to issue an order that removed these vile people, and it would show the citizens that we do care about maintaining our land. What is there to lose, Brother?"

Logan pursed his lips, thinking over her words carefully. Reaver hid his smirk behind one of the sleeves of his lavish white coat. The princess's counter argument to him made much more sense. It was beautifully manipulative and the king didn't even realize it.

"Very well," he conceded. "We must protect this land's history and treasures."

He turned to the elite soldier standing guard to his left. "Lieutenant, take a few men and round them up, forcefully if needed. In the event they resist, shoot warning shots. Do not aim to kill at first. "

"As you command." The soldier snapped off a crisp salute and left the throne room briskly, snapping his fingers to call forth two more soldiers.

Once they departed, Logan stood up from his throne with a weary sigh. "Reaver, when is our next appointment?"

"In four hours, your majesty. I would recommend you get some rest," Reaver advised. "You need your strength. After all, Albion cannot have a king who is unable to defend even himself."

Logan opened his mouth as if to argue, but the princess beat him to it. "Brother, please listen to him. Our king needs his rest, perhaps more than anyone in the kingdom at this point."

Logan sighed and looked a good ten years older. "Very well. If either of you need me, I shall be in my chambers." He walked out of the throne room, his movements sluggish, and Reaver and Annabel watched the doors close behind him.

Once they shut, Reaver turned to see the princess staring hungrily at the throne. She wanted it, more than anything. He would have loved to continue to encourage her, but unfortunately he knew he had a few errands to perform at one of his factories he owned in the capital's industrial sector. It was approaching the time when he needed to make an example out of one of the workers who thought they could get by being a lazy little indigent. They needed to be taught a lesson.

"I shall take my leave as well, my dear." Reaver tipped his hat to the princess giving her a graceful bow. "I have my own urgent business to attend to. Do not fret; I assure you that I will return as swiftly as possible."

The princess gave a quiet nod, however she did not look at him. Her eyes remained on the throne, staring at it the way a wolf eyes a rabbit. It was her prey, and she was the predator.

Reaver left her alone in the throne room, picking up his cane that he left outside. He twirled it in his hands with a devious grin on his face, chuckling quietly to himself as he descended the steps towards the entrance. Servants and nobles alike parted for him to walk through, far too afraid to impede his progress, and his head was held high. Everything had gone exactly as he hoped.

The princess's dark ambitions for the throne had been awakened.

He tilted his hat to block out the rays of the sun and clicked his tongue. The clouds were beginning to cover the sky in a thick grey blanket and he heard the distance rumble of thunder. A storm was brewing and not just one produced by nature. He himself had started one today in the court.

He planted the seeds. Now, all he needed to do now was wait to see if they would sprout and bear fruit.

_**A/N: And that is a wrap for the first chapter. Like I said, this is an Evil!Princess fic, so do not expect a lot of light and cheerful moments. It's been a long time since I've done a properly dark story for Fable and want to get back to my roots of writing for my favorite franchise of all time. Thank you all for reading, and good night!**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	2. Burn

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to the second chapter of Dark Desires. This chapter will take place in our princess's point of view. I do plan on bringing in some new spells to make our dark protagonist all the more deadly, such as Infernal Wrath that I'm planning to use in Joan Arc's Legend. **_

_**By the way, if you have a complaint as to how my princess is acting, remember that this is an Evil!Princess fic. She isn't going to be above killing innocents to get what she wants. **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Burn***

Princess Annabel stood in the throne room, having been alone now staring at the throne for some time. Reaver had long since left to tend to his duties in the city and her brother retired to his quarters. And yet as she stood there, she could feel something burning in her chest. _'One day, that will be mine. Albion will be mine to rule as I see fit. And that day cannot come soon enough.'_

She knew very well what it was. It was her desire. Her desire to seize the throne and usurp her brother's rule. It burned like a hunger, eating away at her. By Skorm she wanted it, more than anything else in the world.

And she'd take what was hers. _'Albion is mine to reshape as I see fit. Not my brother's.' _Her hand became alight with flame and she moved it to create a beautiful but deadly display of fiery magic. This was the very fire that would destroy everything it touched, ravenously devouring everything and everyone who would get in the way of her ambition. Fire was a powerful and deadly element, one of the hardest elements of magic for one to control. In the wrong hands it could and would consume everything in its path, leaving only ashes in its deadly wake. And yet at only nineteen years of age, she was capable of bending it to her will, commanding it with all of the grace of a master wizard.

'_Enjoy your comfortable seat on the throne while it lasts, brother. Soon, all of your pitiful attempts of keeping the populace under your control will be for nothing.' _She clenched her fist and doused her fiery magic, a dark smile forming on her face. Oh how she'd enjoy the day when she'd dispose of her brother and took Albion for herself.

Annabel left the throne room behind and passed by a pair of elite soldiers. Both men snapped to attention, their faces hidden by their steel helmets. "Madam."

She hid her smile. There would come a time when these men would answer to her and only her orders. And they would obey. They would obey, or they would be burned. They would suffer the infernal wrath of her flames. _'Don't worry. As long as your heart continues to beat, all I will require of you is obedience.' _

She was the proper heir to the throne and she'd do anything to make it become a reality. And she meant anything. Even if it meant killing her own flesh and blood. Her ambition would burn everything until she got what she desired.

The princess reached her quarters and started to disrobe, pulling her fancy dress over her head and tossing it nonchalantly onto her bed. She was clad in her simple undergarments and strode over to her dresser, pulling one of the ornate drawers open to find more comfortable attire.

"A busy day in the courts, your majesty?" her butler Jasper asked. The man had been serving the royal family since the late queen, Sparrow, and he had refused to leave the princess's side. He'd be a perfect tool for spreading her word.

"No. Only one appointment so far. The next meeting is in four hours, so I will be taking some time to walk about," Annabel replied. She pulled on a short skirt and leggings, of course dyed a dark red. It was much more comfortable and more casual wear than her royal dress. She fitted on a matching lacy shirt and stepped from behind the changing curtains, smoothing her clothing out.

"Though I am afraid that it has grown rather...tiresome." The first step on her path to the throne was to start with one who was close to her. Jasper was perfect to be used as a pawn.

"Your majesty, I apologize if I offend you in any way, but you did ask for the king to give you a more prominent role in his court," he said.

"I'm not talking about my court duties." She shook her head. "I for one find the politics of the royal court to be quite fascinating. I'm talking about remaining in my current position."

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked.

"Come now, surely you've realised it?" Annabel pressed. "You've seen how the nobles and common folk look at my brother. They have grown restless. Discontent is spreading amongst the populace and it is merely a matter of time before they've had enough. Sooner or later, Albion will be divided by a bloody civil war."

Jasper coughed, old eyes agape with shock. "Y-your majesty, that seems preposterous! I know your brother is not the most popular, but surely the people are not thinking of removing him from the throne?"

"Oh, they are." The princess smiled coldly, noticing with hidden delight that her butler shuddered. "They are too afraid to speak it out loud, of course, but when one studies them in how they interact with him, even an untrained eye can see they are growing unhappy with him. The people are starting to speak, Jasper. It appears as though that time has indeed come."

"What time?" he asked nervously.

Annabel smirked and called on her magic, flames dancing on her fingertips. "The time for a new leader. Albion is crying out for one and there is no better candidate than me." _'Pathetic. Just a few choice words and already I have even the royal butler under my thumb. I have a lot to thank you for, Reaver.' _

The man had given her ambitions the spark they needed earlier today. At first, she was unsure if she should take the steps he suggested. But after their talk in the throne room today, she was positive. If she wanted to become queen, she needed to remove any obstacles that got in her way. _'Starting with the people in this castle loyal to him.' _

"Your majesty, please listen to reason," Jasper pleaded. "What you are insinuating is treason! You could be executed for this!"

"Treason according to whom? The people of this land who have spoken, or my brother?" Annabel smirked and drew patterns in the air with her fire. "If they truly wish for change, then I am sworn to listen to their cries and act accordingly." _'Even if they don't, I will still follow my ambition through to the end.' _

Jasper was silent. It was clear to her that he never expected this from the princess and she continued on. "Albion has grown tired of my brother and I will dispose the land of his tyranny and those who follow him. It is rather simple, Jasper. Either they surrender it peacefully, or I take it by force and eliminate any who stand in my way."

"E-eliminate?" He was practically shaking in fear now. Good. About time they realized the power she held at her fingertips.

"They will all burn." She threw a stream of fire at one of the many windows of her bedroom, shattering it. Bits of broken glass fell on the floor, some of the embers igniting the curtains. The ravenous flames of her magic consumed them hungrily, feasting on the soft fabric until they were completely gone. Only a few charred pieces of metal remained and she smiled cruelly. "That is the fate of those who will dare to stand against me."

Jasper swallowed a lump in his throat, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want to show fear around her, lest she use it as a weapon to manipulate him further. "Your majesty. I swore to your mother that I would stand at your side regardless. But this? I can't allow you to throw our kingdom into war."

Annabel merely chuckled and stepped closer, her fiery magic still flickering at her fingertips and yearning to burn flesh and bone. "Is that a threat, dear Jasper? Do I hear you disobeying my mother's wishes? Perhaps I ought to make another example of what will happen?" Her flames shone in his face, desperately licking closer and closer. The very tips of the flames licked at the lace collar of his coat, singeing it, and he recoiled. Sweat was pouring down his face from the sheer heat of the fire and Annabel could practically taste the fear that rippled from him like a wave.

"That's what I thought." The princess lowered her hand and gave him a fake cheery smile. "Now if you'll excuse me." She brushed passed him and left her quarters behind. A cold rain had begun to fall and she strode out into the gardens, the walkway guarded by a pair of regular soldiers. Their red coats were recently pressed, but she noticed that their facial hair was starting to get rather scraggly and unkempt.

She smirked as she approached them. Undisciplined and unkempt men like them were not fit to be in such a vital role. She had to make an example of them now; otherwise the soldiers that would be under her command would be lazy and undisciplined. She couldn't have that.

"Oh, my princess! Forgive us for not noticing you sooner!" The soldier closest to her snapped to attention, recognizing her royal status. However, as smart and crisp of a salute as he gave her, it was not enough to make her waver.

She stopped in front of them and clicked her tongue in disapproval of their appearance. "What is your name?"

"P-private Daniels, your majesty!" he answered. His rifle was secured onto his back via a leather harness and the princess's hand became alight once more.

"Private Daniels. Do you have a family here inside the castle?" she asked with fake sweetness. "Or perhaps in the city?"

"A wife and child," he answered dutifully. "With all due respect, why?"

"Because it means your widow will receive compensation." The princess blasted him with a deadly inferno. His partner, horrified by the display, went to help him when Annabel put her arm out to stop him. "Do not help him. Unless you wish to suffer the same fate as well?"

The stench of burning flesh filled the air and he retched, though the princess remained unfazed. If anything, it was intoxicating. She could feel her magic groan happily as it consumed the screaming man. It yearned for more and the hungry flames continued to eat away at his flesh until his agonized screams died and his thrashing limbs ceased. His limp body was slowly reduced to blackened ashes and she watched with sadistic glee as the rain washed them away.

"Do you wish to be spared?" she asked. "For me to show mercy?"

"Y-yes!" the remaining guard answered quickly, nodding nervously. Sweat poured down his face and he backed away from her. It was nice to see how a supposed sweet young woman was able to make a trained soldier whimper in fear.

Annabel looked at the fire flickering on her fingers and back at the man. His back was against the wall of the castle and with horror he realized he could not retreat any further. He was trapped.

A cold laugh left her lips and she lowered her hand, letting her magic fade. "Then you will obey me. I order you to remove your facial hair at once. And tell the others that they best do the same. Otherwise, I'll make an example of them just like I did your friend." She gestured with contempt at the ashes that were being washed away.

"As you command!" The guard hurried away to do as she ordered to prevent from invoking her fiery wrath and she chuckled. Word would spread throughout the castle in hushed whispers and within days she'd have the soldiers within the castle itself at her beck and call. They wouldn't serve Logan anymore. They'd take their orders from her now.

Just as she wanted them to.

Annabel continued down to the castle gardens, passing by several servants. They stood upright as she passed, bowing their heads to show their respect for her. "Your majesty. Good afternoon."

The princess stopped in front of one young woman, perhaps the same age as herself. She already had the soldiers and nobles kneeling at her feet, but now she needed the more common people on her side. Starting off here in the castle with the servants was a good place to start.

"Hello, my dear. What is your name?" she asked with fake sweetness. Her tone was akin to that of poisoned honey; deliciously sweet but hiding deadly intentions. With her skilful tongue she'd have the servants fawning over her before the sun set on the horizon.

"Candace, your grace." The servant kept her head bowed. She was remarkably kept compared to the two scruffy soldiers she dealt with only moments prior. Not a single strand of her silky brown hair was out of place, the lace on her dress perfectly cleaned. Annabel smiled. She was a perfect role model for the others.

"Candace. What a beautiful name." The princess stepped closer to her and tilted the girl's chin up with one finger, her dark eyes meeting those pools of melted chocolate. They were deliciously pure and innocent. It was hard to believe the woman hadn't been courted yet.

"How would you describe your life here in the castle?" Annabel asked, feigning ignorance of the servants' treatment. She knew perfectly well her brother hired an abusive drunk to be the steward, but in order for her scheme to work, she needed to pretend as though she did not have the slightest clue as to what was going on.

"Well, everything's perfect, your majesty!" Candace replied hastily. Too fast, Annabel noticed. She was lying.

"You're lying." Annabel shook her head. "Tell me the truth."

"W-well..." Candace stuttered and looked down with a storm of fury brewing in her eyes. "I hate it! Every day, that bastard Alastair yells at us from dawn to dusk, beating us with whips even when we do something correctly! It's horrible. He's horrible! If I could, I would leave the castle and go live down in the city. But I just can't afford it, so I take the undeserved beatings."

Annabel gave her a smile, though its nature could not have been darker. "Do not fret, dear. I think you'll find that you and the rest of the staff will no longer have to fear his drunken wrath any longer. I will see to it that he is taken care of."

"You mean it?" Candace's eyes began to shine with unshed tears of joy, relieved by the princess's words. "Oh, your majesty, we will never forget this! We will do anything you ask of us. Just please make sure he doesn't harm anyone else. Poor Poppy still hasn't recovered from the last beating."

"Of course. I shall see to it at once." Her magic would once again taste the flesh of innocents. She felt no qualms about killing anymore. Her ambition to become the ruler of all of Albion had taken her morals and spat on them. Such petty things like honour would serve no purpose apart from holding her back from her desire, her throne. The sense of longing burned in her chest and she left the young servant alone, heading towards the steward's quarters.

As she approached, she could hear the sharp crack of a whip along with the high pitched screams of pain as it struck whoever the steward was lashing. Her powers roared up at her command and she entered to see the castle steward, Alastair, whipping a young man. His blue shirt was ripped and bloody and he let out a pained whimper as he was shoved onto the ground.

The steward raised his arm to lash his back again when he saw the princess standing in the doorway with her hand alight with flame. "Princess? What are you doing here? Come to watch me work?" He gave her a sleazy smirk.

"No. I'm fulfilling my promise." With her eyes cold she blasted him with a deadly blaze. Her fiery assault ate away at his clothes and flesh and he fell to the ground with a scream. The servant he had been whipping stood aside, still partially bent over from the agony he had been forced to endure.

Alastair's limbs thrashed uncontrollably as he tried to desperately douse the flames bent on consuming him, his foot kicking over a chamber pot. A foul assortment of unpleasant stenches hit the princess's nose and though she wrinkled it in disgust, it only made her magic burn hotter.

His hand reached out to grab a nearby pot of water and Annabel stomped hard on his wrist. Her boot twisted and she heard the sound of bones breaking. The man screamed and she leaned down to spit angrily in his face. "Your tyranny is over, you pathetic little coward. All I want is to see you suffer."

She stood back to let her fiery magic work, crossing her arms across her chest. The steward continued to thrash in pain, but his struggles were going weaker and weaker. In time his body stopped moving entirely and this time, the princess ceased her fire before it turned him to ash. Such a repulsive bastard like this did not deserve that.

More than that, it would serve as a great reminder to not let her hear of the servants' cries anymore. With this kind of display, she had those men and women at her feet. One step closer to her ambition. One step closer to the throne.

One step closer until Logan himself burned.

_**A/N: Mmmm...nothing quite like writing delicious murder XD. I hope you enjoyed. See you next time!**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	3. Ruthless

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter three of Dark Desires! Last chapter saw our ambitious and quite evil protagonist making her move. Time we see just what our second lead, the ever fabulous Master Reaver, has been doing in his spare time! XD **_

_**Also, I'm moving this to an M rating. I think you know why…XD**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Ruthless* **

Reaver hummed cheerfully, twirling his cane as he entered one of the many factories he owned in Bowerstone Industrial. He was blessed with the happy sight of one of his foremen angrily whipping some snotty little indigent and smiled. It was nice to know that there existed other people in the world who shared his attitude towards poor performance during working hours.

He recognized the man as Foreman Charles and the businessman strode towards him with a confident swagger in his steps. "Good day to you, foreman. How have things been going in my absence? Smoothly, I hope?"

The foreman cracked his whip at the boy's back again and gave Reaver a twisted grin. "Oh, yes. A few of these little brats did think about taking more than your allotted break time of three seconds. I showed them exactly what you would think of their misbehaviour and punished them accordingly."

Reaver glanced at the whipped boy's back. His dirty black shirt was torn from where he was struck and crimson rivers of blood ran down his body, but he did not let a single pained whimper escape his lips. He had taken the beating rather well; most new workers sobbed like infants for hours and had to be struck again. Instead, the boy continued to pound away on making a metal cooking pot, not even glancing back at his assailant.

'_Good. He knows exactly where his place is in the world.' _Reaver sniffed haughtily and looked back at his foreman. "Anything else I should be made aware of before I head back to the court?" _'The way I see it, it won't be Logan's for much longer. The princess will have started to make her move.' _

He did find it both scandalous and delicious. To think that the one who would lead a coup against the king would be his own little sister. It would be the talk of the country for months, perhaps even years. Everyone in the kingdom would be taken by surprise, for no one saw such a bold attack on his lordship coming. No one except Reaver. He would stand by on the sidelines and bask in its glory, drinking in the gossip like it was a fine brew.

"No, sir." Charles shook his head. "A few of those disgusting beggars did try protesting outside the factory, going on about wanting better working conditions, but the king's guard took care of them. A few shots into one's body were all they needed to make them flee like the little cowards they are."

Reaver chuckled and tipped his hat to the foreman before heading up to his office. Thankfully it was away from the stench of the under privileged and the smoke of the machines, meaning he could have a few moments with no one for company but himself. He would have loved to have some random tavern wench he could swoon, but the thought of bedding some filthy commoner probably plagued with all sorts of nasty diseases did nothing for him. He'd much rather enjoy the company of the princess in his bed. She was someone who could set passions on fire, literally in some cases.

Reaver entered his office and took a seat in the fine chair he procured from his exploits as the Pirate King of Bloodstone, cracking open a bottle of brandy. The Hero of Skill poured himself a healthy glass and knocked it back, the alcohol barely having any effect on him thanks to his Heroic blood.

He remembered the times when he would saunter into the deplorable excuse of a tavern Bloodstone had and the city's raunchier occupants would practically throw themselves at him. All of them wanted a taste of the Pirate King who slew Captain Dread, men and women alike. He personally didn't care much about who he bedded. Either way, at the end of the night, they were screaming his name like a furious banshee. A fine time for him, he admitted. All of that changed when he met the late queen, Sparrow.

The two never saw eye to eye, constantly butting heads and sometimes going so far as to attempt to murder each other on more than one occasion. Sparrow hadn't been pleased with his attempts to bed her, despite his best efforts.

Reaver rested his head back against his chair and hummed. If he was being honest with himself, he was rather glad that he didn't choose to shag Sparrow. Especially since it would almost guarantee that he wouldn't be able to enjoy the princess later on in life. Time had very little effect on an immortal being such as himself. He may have looked not a day over thirty five, but he in fact had lived for close to three hundred years. And yet living as long as he had did nothing to ease the pain he still felt in his heart from that night. The night a boy, so terrified of death, made a deal with the Shadow Court.

The night he watched as Oakvale burned.

He lost everything that night. All of his friends, all of his family. Everyone he ever loved. It was during that time that the boy he was died and he took up the moniker of Reaver. As a Hero who was exceptional in the ways of Skill, he used his powers to become a pirate king, killing other pirate captains and ruling the newly built port of Bloodstone with an iron fist. Anyone who crossed him or attempted to overthrow him was made an example of. His conquest of the southwest of Albion was known by all. Rough seas, a mile away; it didn't matter. He would kill the captain of the ship and absorb their crew into his own.

And yet, despite having the largest pirate crew in history, many accolades to his name, and a steady stream of prostitutes lining his bed, he felt incomplete. There was something missing and he wasn't able to quite put his finger on it.

Until earlier today, when he met the princess in the throne room. Their little discussion had sparked something buried deep within his soul and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. All he knew was that he enjoyed it very much, even more than participating in an orgy with the king himself. It was thrilling.

To think that he would be the one responsible for setting up one of the most violent events in Albion's history sent delighted shivers up his spine. He poured himself another drink and swirled it slowly in the glass, relishing in the fact that everything that would come to happen in the future would all be because of him. He ignited the princess's ambitions and turned them into a deadly weapon. A weapon that would raze Logan's legacy to the ground and leave it beyond tarnished.

Reaver chuckled and sipped his drink as though it were a fine wine. _'When the coup happens and Logan's headless corpse falls from his gilded throne, just remember that you couldn't have done it without me, dearest Annabel. I was the one who planted the seeds for you.' _

Reaver smacked his lips and took another sip of brandy, jerking out of his euphoria at the irritating sound of someone banging on his door. "Master Reaver!" It was the other foreman of the factory, Olivia. By Avo the woman was annoying with the way she constantly banged on his door like a spoiled child asking for a toy horse, but he wouldn't deny that he often imagined her screaming his name to the heavens. Her curvaceous frame left very little to such a creative imagination like Reaver's.

"Yes?" he asked, placing his glass down. "What is it that you want?" _'Hmph. I'm not lucky enough for her to come in asking me to breed her like a filthy animal.' _He only wished that was true. He could use some good stress relief before he returned to the king's court.

Olivia entered, her dark clothes slightly singed from brushing up against hot machinery. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but there appears to be another demonstration outside the factory! The guards are nowhere to be seen; otherwise I would have notified them instead of disrupting you."

'_Bloody peasants. They never do learn, do they? And yet they wonder why I despise them so much.' _Reaver rolled his dark eyes and stood up, grabbing his cane. "I'll attend to it. In the meantime, please consider taking me up on my offer, will you? I can promise you it would be a night you would never be able to forget."

His seductive purr plus the not so subtle innuendo made the woman's cheeks flush a bright red and she stuttered at his retreating back. The door shut behind him and he chuckled a bit before placing his spare hand on the grip of his ever faithful pistol, the Dragonstomper .48. Only six of the beautifully crafted firearms were ever produced, for six very lucky people. Well, not all that lucky. Reaver himself had killed four of the other owners so far and the other was lost somewhere in Albion. He wasn't able to track it down, being as busy as he was, but he promised that he would eventually find it and when he did, he'd kill its owner and take it for himself.

Reaver reached the balcony overlooking the city and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the horrible and unusual aroma polluting the city. As easy as it would be to place the blame on the underprivileged for not bathing properly, he knew it wasn't the case. Bowerstone was beginning to have a very serious waste disposal problem. He'd bring it up later on today in the court, for he already had a plan to remedy the problem before it could get much worse.

Below him he could see a bald man, one of his workers, standing on a table trying to form a mob. "Reaver is exploiting us! We deserve fair pay! We demand better working conditions! We're workers, not slaves! Reaver treats us like animals. We're not going to bloody take it anymore. There's only one thing for it. We have to stand up to Reaver!"

Before the crowd could get too excited by his words, Reaver rolled his eyes and drew his pistol. He carefully aimed and fired, shooting the man in the chest. He fell to the table with a cry of pain, the crowd gasping in horror, and Reaver scoffed. "But lying down is so much easier than standing up. My dear friends, in order to raise morale I am offering prizes to the most deserving workers. The rules that will govern what I like to call, 'The Reaver Team Spirit Award' are these; firstly, any worker that so much as murmurs another complaint will be shot." He shot the man a second time to emphasise his point.

"Secondly, any worker who takes more than a three second break will be shot." He fired a third time, his natural gift in accuracy enabling him to shoot him in the exact same spot again. "And lastly, any worker who breaks any other rules I have yet to formulate will, yes you guessed it, be shot." He fired his pistol one more time, this time straight through the protester's skull. The man was dead before his head hit the table and Reaver chuckled. This would make them think twice before trying to have another one of these bloody protests. By Avo they were tiresome.

"You may return to work now. As you are all aware, I am a very generous man and likely to start handing out prizes right away." He began to brandish his pistol about in a threatening manner and the crowd dispersed in a hurry, no one else wanting to invoke the wrath of the Hero of Skill. They had already seen what fate held for those who dared to oppose him or call him unjust. "Go! Shoo! Be off with you! Chop chop!"

With the demonstration taken care of, he fired his pistol at a homeless man who had taken to relieving himself into the city's canals. He hit the man in the back of the foot and he howled in agony, hopping up and down in a comedic way and producing a fit of giggles from two passing women who just happened to walk by and notice. It was quite an amusing display to watch as he attempted to nurse his bleeding foot while his filthy trousers were around his ankles and his lower anatomy was on full display to the public.

The beggar lost his balance and tumbled into the canal with a loud splash, adding more insult to injury, and the snickers from the two women turned into outright laughter. Both women nearly fell to the ground, clutching their sides and letting their baskets laden with food clatter to the ground. Tears of mirth fell down their cheeks as they pointed and jeered at the man and Reaver bowed gracefully from his perch. "You are welcome, my dears."

"Oh, Master Reaver!" The women began to swoon and they hurried over to him, their stares wide and pleading. "Will you be so kind as to let us have an autograph? We're such fans of your work!"

Reaver smirked and tipped his tall hat. "And why wouldn't you be? I mean, I'm me after all. I'm afraid I don't have any spare bits of parchment on me at the moment, but, how would you like to come back here in less than four hours time? I'm sure I can make it both your while." _'I may not be able to shag the princess for awhile, but that doesn't mean I'm not able to have my own fun.'_

If there was one thing he enjoyed more that shooting annoying little upstarts apart from starting a rebellion, it was bedding the fairer sex. He didn't mind sleeping with anyone if he was honest with himself, but the added risk of impregnating women made it all the more thrilling. Of course, no one yet had come forward claiming they were now bearing his children, but he supposed that problem would be remedied very shortly if he managed to have his way and bed the princess.

The thought of not only helping her overthrow her brother but also bedding her made him shiver in anticipation. He'd give up all the drink in the world if just once he could have Annabel with her creamy thighs spread open inviting him to take her in the most ruthless of ways. He could only imagine the ways she'd scream his name and beg for more. He wasn't known as a plunderer of fine goods for nothing.

Both women blushed furiously at the underlying implications and they shared a giggle. "Oh, that would be absolutely wonderful. To get a chance to experience your finesse in the flesh is a dream come true."

"Then I will see you at that time. Until then, my dears. I'm afraid urgent business calls." Reaver tipped his hat in farewell and left the two women swooning beneath him, heading back downstairs. The clangs of mallets and other tools thundered in his ears, telling him his workers were in fact hard at work. It seemed as though his earlier words about prizes awaiting the most deserving workers motivated them to work a little harder. Not that he had any intention of actually following through with his words. He had only said that to make an example of what fate would befall those who dared to oppose him and to make them shut their bloody squawking.

Reaver exited the factory and frowned. An icy cold rain had begun to fall and he adjusted his hat to cover the rest of his hair to prevent it from getting soaked. Times like these he really wished he had a carriage at his beck and call. It would make travelling in this drivel a lot more bearable.

With an annoyed huff leaving his lips he continued to trudge through the city, passing by startled onlookers and leaving a crowd of swooning women in his wake. He did notice that several beggars shied away from him. They already knew from past altercations that he would not let a single gold coin leave his coffers.

The rain was accompanied by a chilly wind and he was thankful he had long since built up a resistance to cold weather. Being the ruler of Bloodstone taught him a lot about dressing properly for the occasion. High winds off the sea often made the city colder than its neighbouring swamp of Wraithmarsh. He was glad that his expensive white coat was lined with the finest furs one could purchase. Just because he was used to the bloody cold didn't mean he had to like it.

He was thankful that it was only a short walk to the castle. After ten minutes of strolling through the capital's industrial quarter he was already walking up the front steps of the castle. A pair of nobles sat underneath an alcove, bickering amongst each other over the raising prices of alcohol. He didn't pay them any mind. They weren't his concern.

A guard stood dutifully at the entrance to the castle and he snapped off a crisp salute. "Master Reaver. Her highness is expecting you in the throne room."

"Her?" Reaver's eyebrow rose in curiosity. "Is the king not present?" _'Has she already made her move so suddenly?' _If she had, then Reaver had to give her a lot more credit than he initially did. He assumed she would lie low and then strike, not act now.

"No, he is," the soldier answered. "However, I think you'll find the guards around here will only take their orders from the princess herself now. Especially after she made an example of Private Daniels earlier today."

'_This is a very interesting development. The princess already has the soldiers in the castle at her beck and call. Smart move, Annabel. Having them on your side is vital.' _Reaver's lips curved upwards.

Oh, this would be _very_ fun to watch unfold.

_**A/N: And that does it for chapter three. Tell me what you think if you can, people. I want to get some feedback :P **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	4. Manipulative

_**A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter four of Dark Desires! Last chapter we saw from Reaver's point of view, so now it's back to our murderous princess XD. I can't help it, I like dark stuff in my fantasy lol **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Manipulative***

When Reaver entered the throne room he was able to see that the princess and Logan were already present, along with a member of the Mourningwood community. The king looked as tired as ever, but the princess had quite a sinister smirk on her face. It was no surprise why. He had already been informed by one of the guards that they took their orders from her now after she made an example of one unfortunate soldier who crossed her path.

The Hero of Skill took his place next to the princess, briefly sharing a knowing smile with her, and he bowed his head respectfully. "Hello, your majesty. I'm not late, am I?"

"No." Logan shook his head. "In fact you're right on time." He stood up from his throne to give his declaration. "The court will now begin to discuss our waste disposal issues. Reaver will give his solution and a member of the Mourningwood community will stand against them. You may speak, Master Reaver."

Reaver smirked as he began to give his solution. "Your majesty, I'm sure you must have noticed a certain aroma permeating around the city as of late. I'm afraid it's not merely the stench of the underprivileged. Bowerstone is beginning to have a serious waste disposal issue. We require an immediate and inexpensive solution and I have one. Currently, some of our waste is deposited in the Mourningwood swamp. With very little effort, Reaver Industries could rework the sewer system to deposit all of our waste into the region. As you know, it's a desolate place with no financial benefit to the kingdom; the reason behind this decision is flawless."

The person from Mourningwood shook his head desperately. "No, no, this isn't right! We all belong to the earth! It's in our blood, it's in our fingernails! We in Mourningwood deserve to be clean just like the rest of the kingdom. What about building one of those...what's it called, a sewage treatment plant?"

The king looked to be mulling over the decision when the princess stepped forward. "Brother, if I may?"

Logan nodded, giving his approval. "You may."

Annabel crossed her arms and held her head high. "The cost of constructing such a building would require a substantial amount of gold from the royal treasury. And that's not to mention the guards one would have to station to make sure it wasn't vandalised. I believe that Master Reaver's solution is the one that benefits the kingdom most as a result. It is inexpensive and can be implicated within hours. A new building would take months to construct and we simply do not have the time nor the patience to stir in the stench of our own excrement."

"I'm in agreement with you." Logan hummed and faced the court. "With my royal decree, the region of Mourningwood will now receive the city's sewage. Master Reaver, you may begin the flushing immediately."

"Excellent, your majesty. I will get my workers on it right away." Reaver smirked and faced the flabbergasted Mourningwood resident, who was too stunned by the king's declaration. "You are no longer needed. Be off with you."

The man opened his mouth to protest, but the princess narrowed her eyes. "You heard him. You were dismissed." A ball of fire appeared in her hand and her glare was enough to send him scurrying away with his tail between his legs like the coward he was.

Logan watched him run out of the court before facing her again. "Annabel, was all of that necessary?"

The princess huffed and let her fires disappear. "It was. If you allowed him to protest anymore than he already did, we would've had to execute him for disobeying an order from the king. It wouldn't do well for our image. No, it is better for there to be a more public display such as that. Word would spread that we are not to be trifled with."

"You mean, _you_ are not one to be trifled with." Logan glared accusingly at his sister.

Annabel merely smirked and shared a brief sly glance with Reaver. "What difference does it make, dearest brother? As long as the decree is seen through, it makes no difference to the people as to who sits on the throne."

"I would not say such things if I were you." Logan's voice was little more than a growl. Any lesser woman would've cowered before it, begging for mercy. But Annabel was not a mere tavern wench who would be swayed by an empty threat. She was capable of magic whilst Logan was not.

Annabel's dark green eyes flashed momentarily but she let her magic fade from her fingertips. "Forgive my words, brother. _Clearly_ you are the one who should be making these decisions, not I. I am merely making sure that your decree is not ignored by the citizens."

"See to it that it remains that way," Logan said with a hint of a snarl in his tone.

"Dear me, Logan. Do you see me as a threat to your power?" she asked innocently. "I assure you that I don't quite envy your seat on the throne. Sitting there listening to dull speeches and complaints from the nobles and common rabble is far too tiresome for me."

Manipulation worked both ways. She was content to mask her intentions before her brother until she was ready to seize the throne for herself. Rumours of the king suspecting his beloved younger sister of treason would spread like wildfire, inflaming suspicions that the king was too paranoid to rule. Word travelled fast in the castle and it wouldn't be long before the nobles in Millfields and Bowerstone began to gossip about the accusations.

Annabel was not just a pretty face. By feigning loyalty, she would maintain support while stoking the king's paranoia. Any attempt by Logan to declaim her actions against him could be explained away as mad rambling, and would eventually be drowned out by the clamour for Annabel to take the throne and seize the power she secretly craved.

Her cleverness made her quite the dangerous woman and Reaver liked dangerous. They were truly two of the same kind; it reminded him of how he often used his tongue to swindle people into sacrificing their youth and beauty to the Shadow Court so he could retain his. _'Just remember, my sweet. You couldn't have gotten this far without me planting the seeds earlier today.' _He flashed a charming smile and twirled his cane. "Is that all for today, your majesty? Or are there more appointments for today?"

"There is one more," Logan replied, casting another suspicious scowl at the princess. She ignored it and turned her back towards him so he wasn't able to see her victorious and sinister smile. She had him exactly where she wanted him. To think she managed to plan this whole coup out in less than a single day. It was amazing. Reaver didn't think even Sparrow would be capable of such a feat.

"Samuel, the head of the Brightwall Academy, is here to plead his case about reopening the academy," he continued. "Master Reaver, I assume you have a counter argument in place?"

"Not at the present, no," he admitted. However the princess stepped forward and locked eyes with her brother.

"I do," she said calmly. "With your permission, I would like to speak for it when he arrives."

"Permission granted." Logan nodded. "Please do be mindful of what you say. What you say could dictate how the people react to the outcome."

"Oh, do not worry about me, brother. You should have more confidence in my abilities." The princess's dark grin only grew and Reaver could feel his anticipation grow. He yearned to see how the young woman would handle this situation. In her previous court appearances she had only spoken to convince the king of either one of Reaver's suggestions or another's. She had never made her own counter argument. This would be a good test to see if she was indeed ready to become the queen.

The doors to the throne room opened and in stepped Samuel, the head of the Brightwall Academy. He was flanked by two royal guards clad in the uniform of an elite soldier and he looked a little nervous.

Logan stood up from his throne and cleared his throat to address the court. "The matter at hand is the future of Brightwall Academy. Samuel will speak for the town and its scholars. Annabel will dispute his cause. Samuel, you may speak first."

Samuel bowed his head and began to speak with that annoying stutter of his. "Y-your majesty, a-as you know, the academy was founded by your late mother. She would hate to see it remain closed. I came here only to ask that you please reopen the academy. By doing so, you would be doing a great thing for the town and the people seeking knowledge."

He finished his proposal and now it was Annabel's turn. All eyes would be on her.

The princess stepped forward and cleared her throat to make sure she had the court's full attention. "My king. The Brightwall Academy was indeed founded by our mother and there is of course a lot of appreciate for knowledge in the Age of Industry. However, may I remind you that the tomes located in the library contain knowledge that is very dangerous if it is in the wrong hands. The last thing this kingdom needs is for the less intelligent people to learn how to summon monsters from the void or work a firearm. Therefore, I propose that while we do reopen the academy, we introduce an admission fee."

"B-but only the rich would be able to afford to learn!" Samuel protested.

"Incorrect. Those who truly seek knowledge will not think twice about paying a small fee upon entry," Annabel countered. "As the head of the academy, you are more than aware that many of the prized books in the library are older than this kingdom and prone to damage. By introducing this policy, those who use those books will be more careful with them and not want to risk damaging them."

"Your majesty, please, I beg you," Samuel pleaded, growing desperate. "Brightwall is not flowing with an abundance of gold. We're in the middle of a shortage right now as we speak!"

"Interesting." Annabel folded her arms across her chest. "The court representative from Brightwall tells me otherwise. Zachary? If you may, please step forward and inform the court on how the current situation in Brightwall is."

A man with a large beard and straw hat on his head stepped forward, his broad chest puffed out proudly at being called upon by the princess. "Your majesty, Brightwall is positively booming at the moment. Carriages carrying supplies from the capital arrive every three days, ensuring we do not suffer any shortages, and the town council is in agreement that the levies placed by the king are more than fair."

With a victorious smirk on her face, Annabel faced Samuel again. "You see? Your attempts at a free handout not only mean you are lying to the king, but you are also insulting the intelligence of the representative _you_ elected to have a voice in the court. However, it is not my place to make the final decision. That rests with the king."

'_For now.' _Reaver caught the silent addition, even if she didn't say the words aloud. With this statement from the Brightwall representative, she had Samuel backed into a wall. How in the name of Avo had she prepared all of this in such a short amount of time?

He didn't get a chance to ponder that for very long. Logan had been more than content to watch the debate silently but now he had risen from the throne to proclaim his declaration. "I've made my decision. The Brightwall Academy will be reopened, however we will charge admission fees to ensure the tomes inside remain in their present condition."

Reaver couldn't help but notice just how smug Annabel looked. She had outmanoeuvred Samuel's argument and pinned him into a corner. She was good at what she did. No doubt the representative from Brightwall would send a message back to the village expressing how Samuel had tried to lie in the court. His image would be tarnished and more support would float Annabel's way. Beautiful, clever, and manipulative. Reaver was growing to like her more and more with each passing moment.

"If that is how it must be then so be it." Samuel bowed his head in defeat. "I'll...I'll be on my way back to Brightwall." At least he knew when he was dismissed, unlike that bloody fool from Mourningwood prior to him.

His head was down as he left the court, followed by the two guards, and the king slumped down in his throne. "The court is adjourned for the day. Everyone, you are dismissed. Please go about your own business."

The representatives from each part of the kingdom dispersed and Annabel left as well. Reaver tipped his hat to the king in farewell. He would have loved to follow the princess to see exactly what she would be up to with there being no more meetings for the day. However, he knew he was not wanted or needed. He had done his part already.

'_First the guards and now the people of Brightwall. Things are moving very fast for her. At this rate, it will be less than a month before the kingdom is her's.' _Reaver could only chuckle. He really was beginning to like the princess more and more the longer he observed her.

* * *

Annabel walked down the steps, following Samuel and the two guards commanded by her to escort him. They were leading him to the castle's front gates, where he would meet his end. She had no intention of letting him return to Brightwall. He would continue to attempt to spread lies and slander her name across the village. That could not be allowed to happen if she was to become queen.

Once they were outside, the two guards stopped and signalled for Samuel to halt. The old librarian was confused but he started to sweat when he saw the princess coming. "W-what is the meaning of this?"

"Silence," she hissed. Her hand was a blur of motion as she slapped him hard across the face, making him stumble. The back of her hand stung, but she pushed the petty discomfort aside and gave him a fixed glare. "Quite bold of you to attempt to lie to the king in the court. I imagine my mother would be quite disappointed in you."

"Forgive me, your majesty!" The man dropped to his knees with a bow. "I was most wrong to say what I did. I just wanted the academy to be open to everyone!"

"And it is. To those who deserve to know." Annabel let out a sadistic laugh, noticing with delight how he shuddered in fear. She faced the two guards and gave them a cold smile. "Fulfil the order I gave to you."

"As you command, my queen." The soldier gave a curt nod and pulled out his pistol, aiming it at Samuel's head.

"Q-queen?" The old librarian looked up in horror. "N-no, please! Spare me, I beg you!"

The soldier pulled the trigger and a single gunshot rang out. Samuel's lifeless body slumped to the ground a puddle of his own blood. Annabel watched the dead man fall and she smiled. "Long live the queen of Albion. You two, dispose of the body. Make sure there's nothing left to find."

"Yes, ma'am." The two soldiers began to drag the dead librarian's body away and Annabel turned swiftly on her heel to retreat back into the castle. Zachary was waiting for her like he promised her earlier and he gave her a coy smile.

"So, has that troublesome old fool been taken care of?" he asked.

"He has. You will not have to worry about him being a threat to you any longer," Annabel answered smoothly. She reached into the pockets of her dress and pulled out a hefty bag of gold she stole from the royal treasury. "As promised, ten thousand gold coins for you. Do be careful on how you spend it; I don't want this getting back to me. If anyone asks, we do not know each other and I'm just supplying additional funds to help Brightwall. Are we clear?"

"Of course, my queen." He bowed his head. "This wouldn't have been possible without you. I shan't forget this."

"Then our business is concluded. But before you go, allow me to issue a final word of warning. Betray me and you won't get the luxury of an execution," the princess warned, letting her fingertips become cloaked in flame. "You will be nothing more than ashes in the wind."

"My dear, I wouldn't dream of betraying you." The man kept his head bowed and started to sweat when she tilted his chin up with a fingernail. "But you have my word that I will remain a humble servant of the queen."

"There's a good lad," she cooed with fake sweetness. "Now, I believe you must report back to Brightwall and explain how Samuel tragically lost his life at the hands of a vile mob in Bowerstone." Everyone in the city knew that the capital city harboured some of the worst criminals in the kingdom and who continued to evade justice. The princess would see to it that they were dealt with accordingly by leading the charge herself.

An informant by the name of Gerald had told her all about the Ferret gang that operated in the sewers under the city's streets. The king wouldn't lift a finger to do anything about it, but the princess would. Doing so would ensure the support of the people; they would see that there was someone willing to get their hands dirty to do what was necessary all while she continued to wear her mask in front of her brother to make him seem nothing more than a paranoid man unfit to rule.

'_Soon,' _she vowed silently. _'Soon, the throne will be mine and you won't be able to do anything to stop me. These times are going to be the end of you, brother.' _

_**A/N: And that does it for chapter four. I admit I am enjoying this way too damn much XD. Why is it so much fun being an evil asshole again? No, really. Why is this so entertaining? **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	5. Lust

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 5. Even though this doesn't get a lot of traffic this is still an enjoyable story to do for me. Mainly because I can write an evil protagonist again XD**_

_**Yes there is smut in this chapter. No, this story is not having an Elliot/Princess pairing. Fuck no. **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Lust***

Annabel hummed as she entered the castle library, pulling out a book that had caught her fancy some time ago. Unknown to even Reaver himself, she had managed to procure a copy of his very own autobiography, written over twenty years ago. It was rumoured that Reaver himself bought the entire first run of them to increase the demand and the price, making him all the richer. However, during the second run's publication, Reaver had decided to become a successful 'businessman' and personally saw that the books ceased being published lest it be used as blackmail against him.

However, thanks to her being able to pull strings in Brightwall, she was able to keep a single copy of the book, titled, _Reaver on Reaver_. If one thought about it in a suggestive manner, it wasn't a particularly pleasant image. Or it was one's fantasy come true. She wouldn't deny that the man was attractive, even though he was far older than either her or her brother. He had a certain boyish charm about him to go along with his dashing looks and yet he was surrounded by an aura of dangerousness.

The princess flicked through the pages until she found where she had left off and began to read quietly, enjoying being away from the fussing nobles and the tireless servants. Even though she had them at her beck and call, it was peaceful being able to spend a few brief moments away from them and think about what she had done in the last twenty four hours.

She had killed two people and gave the order to execute a third. Blood was on her hands. And yet she did not feel any sort of remorse for those she had murdered with her magic. True, if word got out that she had committed those crimes then lesser people would inevitably judge her for it. However she had no qualms about dirtying her hands to achieve her ambition. If some needed to die so she could seize the throne that was rightfully hers, then so be it.

'_Those who stand in my way will die. Those who serve me will find themselves richly rewarded.' _Her dark eyes flicked down to read the passage of the page and she was about to enjoy what appeared to be a firsthand account of a steamy orgy when she heard a knock on the door. _'Of course I have to be interrupted right when I get to a good part. Bloody hell.' _

"Yes? Who is it?" she asked, closing the book and putting it on the shelf. The door opened and in came one of the soldiers she had ordered to dispose of Samuel. He dropped to one knee respectfully and she looked back at him. "Rise and report, lieutenant."

"Your majesty. Samuel's body has been disposed of," he said, rising back to his feet.

"Somewhere inconspicuous I hope?" she queried.

"Of course. The body was put to the flame and the ashes scattered amongst the city's lower quarters by the docks," he replied. "No one will be able to find any trace of his remains."

"Excellent work, soldier," she said with a dangerous purr. "You have performed your task to the letter." _'Just as I expected you would. You would have to be a fool to try and oppose me. You know firsthand just what I'm capable of.'_

He placed his gauntleted hand over the steel plate armour that covered his chest. "I am sworn to serve the rightful ruler of Albion, your grace. What are your next orders?"

The princess pursed her lips. She could not think of anything right now that needed to be dealt with immediately. The Ferret gang down in Bowerstone Industrial would be dealt with in time; she could afford to wait a little while longer. "Nothing. You are free to leave."

He saluted and left the princess alone, though her desire to read more about Reaver had been tarnished. Once she was taken out of the mindset by an outside presence, she found it very hard to continue what she was doing prior. _'Damn. And to think I would be able to enjoy these last few hours of day with a nice book to read.' _

Her magic coursed through her veins, longing to be unleashed and destroy whatever it touched. As tempting as it was to go out of her way to find someone who had wronged her and make an example out of them, doing so would cause more problems than solutions. Her brother would be even more suspicious if he heard about his beloved younger sister murdering someone with her Heroic powers. She didn't want to reveal to him her intentions just yet. She wanted to wait until the right moment, make him even more paranoid, and then strike.

If everything went to plan, then she'd have the throne before Logan was even aware of the dagger in his back. Then she could rule Albion as she saw fit and bend the world to her will and hers alone.

She left the library behind, no longer feeling the desire to read. It was nice to hear that the soldiers in the castle walls would listen to only her orders after she made an example of one earlier. The nobles were soon to follow, the posh twits they were. She knew Reaver would not be able to keep his mouth closed about what happened earlier in the throne room today; in fact, she was counting on it. The nobles would start to think that maybe the king was indeed unfit to rule and that she should take his place.

'_Everything is going exactly as I planned. I have a lot to thank you for, Reaver. Without you giving me advice none of this would be possible.' _Annabel smiled cruelly and walked along the castle balcony leading to the royal gardens. She could see a soot covered chicken being shot at by one of the cooks and it let out a pained squawk as a bullet struck its wing. It crashed to the ground in a heap of black feathers and one more shot from the cook's rifle put it out of its misery.

'_I do hope he's not planning to add that filthy creature as part of dinner.' _Her lip curled in disgust. _'It would be such a pity for me to plan out my coup so perfectly only to have it ruined by a single illness.' _

As the cook dragged it away, a devious plan formed in her head. _'However...if the king were to suddenly fall ill, he'd put me in charge to take his place while he recovered. This couldn't have been a more perfect turn of events.' _

Annabel had to bite back a laugh. A few short days ago she would have balked at the idea of poisoning her own flesh and blood. But now, she no longer saw Logan as her brother. He was an obstacle and like any other obstacle, she would remove it from her path. _'Funny how quickly things can change based on a shift in perspective.' _

She approached the cook before he could retreat into the kitchens, stopping him in his tracks with a clear of her throat. He turned around and stuffed the dead bird he was dragging behind his back, bowing his head respectfully. "Ah, your majesty. How may I accommodate you today?"

"I was going to ask what you were going to do with that chicken," she replied smoothly. "Are you planning on using it for anything?"

"This?" He held up the chicken that he killed. "No. I was just going to toss it outside for the crows to scavenge on. Why?"

"Because the king is stressed out and could really use a leisurely meal," she answered. "I'm sure a cook of your status would have no trouble in turning it into a feast made for a king?"

"Oh, of course not! I am the royal chef for a reason," he boasted, puffing his chest out with pride. "I can whip even this bird into a fine meal for his majesty! It should only take me about an hour or so."

"Thank you." She smiled coyly. "See to it that it is pleasing to his palate." _'He's no fool. He knows that even he couldn't prepare that properly to cleanse it of any diseases it might have had. But he also knows from earlier on that I will execute any who disobey me. He's not stupid enough to try and cross me.' _

Annabel left the kitchens behind, walking out into the gardens once more. The sun had begun to sink on the horizon and the temperature was beginning to drop. A little brisk, but still comfortable to her. Unlike her brother, who had a loathing of cold places, she found sanctuary in cooler weather. It let her have a clear mind and helped banish any demons she had lurking in her head.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the many different breeds of flowers planted. It smelled wonderful. However, the peaceful moment was ruined by the sound of someone calling her name. "Annabel!"

The princess turned around and bit back a frustrated snarl when she saw a young noble boy approaching her. His orange hair was perfectly trimmed and his green eyes sparkled. Elliot. The boy who had more than a fascination with her. He followed her everywhere from the time they were both children, always padding behind her like an obedient little dog.

She used to enjoy his company. It took her mind off of her duties in the court. But now? Now he was just a nuisance. Still, loyalty like his was hard to come by. He'd never try and betray her, which made him a useful pawn in her scheme. But that's all he ever would be to her. Even if he fell to his knees and professed his love to her, it wouldn't be returned. He was a tool.

"Elliot." She greeted him with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster. "How nice to see you again."

"Please, there is no reason to be so formal." He smiled, unaware of her inner seething. "I haven't had a moment to be with you today. Would you care to let me into your quarters?"

Hmm, perhaps he had more uses than just his loyalty. He would be excellent stress relief. Contrary to what her brother thought she was not a virgin; she had a few brief experiences of indulging in the sin of flesh. A coy smile worked its way onto her face and she leaned in to give him a brief but chaste kiss. "I think I would appreciate that a lot."

She lent him her hand, the noble boy's eyes lighting up with joy. He was so easily swayed by the promise of sex. She'd entertain it for now.

She allowed him to escort her to her quarters, brushing past a few guards. They saluted when she passed them, one of them giving her a subtle nod. Good, the message was spreading fast throughout their ranks. No doubt they were talking in hushed whispers how the king seemed to be losing his grip on reality. Once the accusations about her being guilty of treason started spreading thanks to Reaver, everyone would all start looking at the facts. Annabel would continue to be the strong pillar she always was and Logan would look as though he was losing his sanity.

'_Even you, Elliot. You'll start thinking the same thing like the rest of the helpless sheep and pledge your loyalty to me. But don't get too comfortable. You're a pawn in my scheme. And like any other tool, you'll be disposed of when the time is right.' _She closed the door to her quarters behind her, locking it to prevent any intrusions from Jasper or someone else.

She pointed to the bed, her wet tongue slowly dragging over her lips. "Sit." Elliot obeyed like the good child he was and Annabel sauntered over to him, making sure he caught the gentle swaying of her hips. His gaze burned with hunger and he let out a soft groan of desire as she started to strip out of her clothing.

Her blouse came off first. She discarded it and tossed it onto the floor, revealing the dark red bra that covered her soft breasts. The princess was aware of him staring at her and she smirked, shimmying out of her skirt and letting it fall to the ground. It soon joined her blouse on the floor and she pushed him onto the bed.

Elliot let out a surprised gasp but he was quickly silenced with another chaste kiss. Annabel straddled him, letting her hands roam over his body. Unlike a soldier, he was a little too soft in certain areas. Not enough muscle for her preferred taste, but he would be more than adequate enough to satisfy her needs.

She tore off his jacket, hands gripping at his chest. Their lips remained firmly locked and Annabel could feel him starting to get aroused. Elliot let out a needy groan and she started grinding into his crotch, his manhood no doubt straining painfully against his pants.

"Annabel." He groaned out her name, his hands settling on her waist. Her lips left his and she started a slow trail of them down his jaw and neck. His erection throbbed longingly against her and Annabel let it spring free of its prison, unbuttoning his pants. She pushed it down around his ankles, his undershorts with them. Now fully nude she let his bare manhood rub against her covered crotch. He wasn't the biggest she had seen or been with, but she would still be satisfied with it.

She could feel herself moistening from rubbing against him and she pulled her panties down to let her wet folds lubricate him to allow for easier entry. A soft moan escaped her throat as the very tip of his manhood slipped inside and she positioned herself to let her sink all the way down him. Her moan grew louder and she started to ride him, sliding up and down his manhood.

Beneath her, Elliot was groaning out, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of being inside the princess. Her slick walls were accommodating him easily and she leaned down to kiss him, keeping her steady rhythm. Their lips met and her tongue prodded greedily at his lips for entry.

Not wanting to disappoint her, his mouth parted and her tongue easily slipped inside his oral cavern, coiling around his. Elliot groaned into their frenzied kiss and started to move his hips into hers, adding more to their pleasure. The princess began to move quicker now, moaning as Elliot's manhood pushed deeper and deeper inside her. She was taking him easily, letting his warm erection bury all the way inside.

Her bra came undone and both of her breasts sprung free, bouncing with every thrust. She pulled away from their kiss and directed Elliot's face to them, her hidden message sent. He eagerly closed his mouth around one of her breasts and began to suck on them, his hot breath and tongue feeling amazing on the sensitive flesh. His teeth gently grazed her nipple and she gasped, the sensation taking her by surprise. He may have not been the most well endowed, but he certainly knew how to please a woman. She'd give him credit for that at least, as irritating as his presence could sometimes be.

His other hand worked on the other, lightly squeezing and rubbing it to add to her pleasure. Annabel could feel her insides clenching down on him, her body naturally responding to the process of him potentially trying to impregnate her. She lost control first and threw her head back with a shrill cry, her body shaking uncontrollably. She wove her fingers into Elliot's hair as she rode it out, her thighs quivering on either side of him.

Annabel could feel him beginning to throb inside her, signalling the approach of his own release, and she continued to ride him. Elliot fell back on the bed with a low groan and released inside her, sweat dripping down his face. The princess moaned in content as she felt his warm essence flood her insides and she stayed where she was until he finished.

Elliot's now limp manhood fell out and Annabel fell on him, catching her breath. She could feel his warm seed slowly trickling out of her entrance and she could sense his hopefulness about him possibly impregnating her. However, her magic would not allow it; he was not her true mate and she didn't want to be burdened with a child just yet. She'd entertain the possibility in the future when the throne was hers, but now was not the time to desire any children.

"I love you," Elliot confessed, raising a hand and cupping her cheek. By Skorm even his hands were too dainty for her. She supposed it couldn't be helped; the boy did live such a pampered and sheltered life. Even her own hands had some hints of roughness from training with Sir Walter.

"I love you too." The lie easily slipped off of her tongue and she kissed him again. She removed herself from his body and went over to clean herself up. A nice soak in the bath would be more than enough to rid her body of the stench of sex.

"I need to clean up," she said, looking over her shoulder and gathering her clothes. "Don't wait for me; I have to go back to the throne room afterwards."

Elliot nodded, searching for his own clothes. "As you wish, my love. I'll see you later tonight." He dressed himself quickly and left, leaving her alone once more. A few days ago, she did think she loved him. But their actions in bed just now said otherwise. She did not love him; it was nothing more than the sin of lust.

Annabel eased herself into the bath and closed her eyes. She had a lot to think about today.

_**A/N: And so ends this chapter. Trying to be consistent with updates even though this has by far the least amount of traffic out of anything I've ever written for a multi-chapter fic. Hopefully I'll pick up readers as this goes along. See you!**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	6. Seize

_**A/N: Hello al and welcome to chapter six. Last chapter we got some nice smut and now we follow up with more serious stuff. Like I mentioned, do not expect an Elliot/Princess pairing. Nope. No way. Kill him every chance I get for a reason XD**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Seize***

After Annabel had finished washing up from her activities with Elliot earlier, she had chosen to adorn a simple skirt and leggings. Instead of the usual colours of white and light blue, she had them taken to Jasper so he could properly administer a vial of black dye to them. The princess stood proudly in front of the large ornate mirror in her bedroom, admiring the way she looked. The menacing vibe that rolled off her in waves would serve her well in getting the people of the kingdom to obey her. _'Emptier than the Void itself, yet with a certain elegance to it. How fitting.' _

Logan of course wouldn't approve of her change in attire, but she did not care what he thought. The court would listen to her whether it be out of respect or out of fear and eventually she'd take what was hers. _'All in due time. First, I have to make sure that Reaver already started spreading the rumours of Logan's rambling amongst the nobles. Once that starts, everything will fall in place. It'll be a marvellous symphony of mutiny and chaos. Logan will be devastated to see his precious Albion stripped from him by me.'_

Annabel let out a chuckle and smoothed out her skirt. She had her aristocrat makeup already prepared for her courtesy of Jasper and started to apply it, taking a few extra minutes to add the black heart on her left cheek. Once it was applied she gave her reflection a curt nod of approval. _'That ought to do it.'_

She turned around at the sound of a light knock on her door and she heard the booming voice of the royal chef. "Your majesty, it's me. Everything has been prepared for the king. Do you wish to serve it yourself or rather have one of the servants do it for you?"

Annabel pursed her lips, thinking hard. While it would give her great pleasure to see Logan cough and drown in a puddle of his own vomit after she gave him the meal prepared for him, she knew that the accusations of her deliberately poisoning him would spread throughout the castle like a wildfire and potentially derail her plans. _'No. It's best for someone else to do it and make him think there is a plot against him amongst the staff. I hate to lose such good pawns this early, but it is a necessary sacrifice. Better for someone else to draw his attention rather than me at the moment.'_

"Have a servant bring it up to him," she ordered. "He is likely resting in his quarters." If this went the way she thought it would, then Logan would of course start his investigation not amongst the servants, but rather in the kitchens. The cook would inevitably meet his end via an execution, but he probably already knew that when he agreed to help her and was more than happy to sacrifice himself for Albion's rightful ruler.

"As you command, my lady. I shall see to it at once," the cook replied. She heard his soft footsteps leave and she grinned savagely. _'I almost wish I was able to see Logan's face when he takes that first bite and the poison starts to work on him. It's a pity I cannot do anything directly for now besides swindle and persuade people to join my cause. But the rewards of being patient are worth it.' _

The princess didn't have any more court appearances scheduled for the day and she wouldn't be training her swordsmanship with Sir Walter Beck until tomorrow morning. He was another one who would be invaluable to her cause. If anyone would follow her into the depths of the Void without question, it was him.

Sir Walter was once a soldier serving under her mother when she was the queen of Albion. He was vital in her campaign to unite the land under one banner and was instrumental in the victory over the pirate forces of Bloodstone during the siege of the city. He may have retired from the military now, but he was very much still a capable warrior and one who had pledged his loyalty to her when Queen Sparrow had finally succumbed to old age. Walter was a tough old bastard and one who only listened to her. _'He shouldn't take much persuading. But I will only make moves to get him to follow through once he hears about Logan's supposed insane ramblings. He'll end up supporting me in the end.'_

Walter was loyal almost to a fault. Once the man made a promise, he kept it no matter what. It was a perfect weapon for her to utilise in her attempt of staging a coup. Not using him in her scheme would be a terrible waste of an invaluable resource. The only real issue was feigning ignorance of the situation when he confronted her about the rumours of her treason. _'Not that it will be particularly difficult. I am more than accustomed to wearing a mask to conceal my true desires. Either way, Walter will find himself as more than a pawn.' _

Her rather rapid progress of gaining supporters would undoubtedly decline for a few weeks, though it would be a farce only to make sure Logan didn't get proof of her activities. She didn't want him to be able to prove what she was doing. If she was caught, she'd be swiftly tried and sentenced to death. _'Logan is the biggest obstacle, but I cannot challenge him directly. Not yet. Brightwall and Millfields may be in my hands, but the capital city is not. Once I have Bowerstone firmly secured under my thumb, I will strike against him. If it comes down to swords, then so be it.' _

In her present state, her swordsmanship still needed some work. True, she could last for a long time against a seasoned soldier like Walter, but that wasn't enough. Prior to his expedition to Aurora, Logan had been rather adventurous, going off to new places and improving his skill with the blade as he went. He very rarely drew his cutlass nowadays, but he was still a formidable swordsman, having spent years honing his craft. Perhaps it was due to his lack of magical power that he chose to pursue swordsmanship the way he did.

Despite them both being the children of the late Hero queen, Sparrow, Logan had not inherited their mother's remarkable powers whilst Annabel had. If one hadn't known that Sparrow only had one spouse through her reign, they'd assume that she had an affair with another man. It seemed as though the gift of her blood had not passed down to him.

'_Albion needs me. A Hero. One who isn't afraid of anything and will not cower in their chambers at the slightest hint of an outside threat. Samarkand's diplomats will know that Albion has a queen who is not to be trifled with.' _Her hand clenched into a firm fist, fighting back the surge of magic that once again longed to be unleashed.

She eased herself onto her bed and propped her feet up, plucking a book from a nearby bookshelf. It was one she had read many times before, about the Triumvirate. The Triumvirate was a trio of three Heroes representing skill, will, and strength. The Hero of Strength was a remarkably large man whose equally large sword cut a bloody swath through his foes. The Hero of Skill possessed unmatched accuracy, though according to the note at the bottom of the page Reaver disagreed. The strongest of them all was the Hero of Will, who could command every element of magic and was capable of summoning entire storms to destroy anything that got in their way.

Before they died they each created three talismans. One was a magical gauntlet that would enable the wearer to command the powers of the Old Kingdom. The second, a pistol that would never miss. The third, a sword from the time of the Old Kingdom that would wreak havoc on anyone its deadly blade touched.

The sword had been lost nearly a century ago; the last known whereabouts of it were the distant lands of Eastern Samarkand's mountains. The pistol, hidden in an ancient tomb in the Auroran deserts. The gauntlet was hidden in the vaults of Bowerstone Manor.

However, Bowerstone Manor no longer existed; it had been burned to the ground by the Albion Witchspotters nearly five hundred years ago during their execution of Lady Grey. In its place Castle Fairfax was built, now renamed Bowerstone Castle. It was ludicrous to think that the vault had survived the blaze, but the gauntlet wasn't any ordinary magical artefact. It could very well still be buried in the castle right now.

'_That can wait until tomorrow. For now I should get some rest and see if my efforts will bear fruit.' _Annabel closed the book and pulled the thick blanket over her body.

The coup was only just beginning.

* * *

Reaver entered his manor in Millfields and was greeted by his loyal servant Barry Hatch. "'ello Master Reaver! Welcome home! There is a roast duck waitin' for you in the dinin' hall!"

'_Roast duck? Dear me. One would think that I am hosting some sort of private party.' _The Hero of Skill's lips curved into a thin smirk. "I will take it in my study. Lots of important business to attend to, I'm afraid."

"Of course!" Barry bowed at the waist respectfully. "Do you require any assistance in carrying it up?"

"That would be quite wonderful." Reaver patted his pockets for a bottle of brandy he had secretly stolen from King Logan's private stash and fished it out. The cork popped out easily and he took a long pull from it, smacking his lips. The king may be a paranoid bastard who wasn't fit to rule, but one couldn't deny that he had great taste in alcohol.

Reaver passed by a few servants under his care and they stepped aside to let him pass. One of them was polishing a golden statue of himself and he was pleased to see that their work was thorough. Not a single speck of dust was on it; they knew better than to do the job poorly. He withheld their wages for a week the last time someone didn't properly clean it and the one responsible was forced to endure his Wheel of Misfortune.

The wheel was a rather simple device. He spun, his victims died, and his guests enjoyed. It was a riot. The last victim couldn't even make it past the bloody hobbes. Pity, too. Such a sweet boy, but terrible with a sword. He reminded Reaver a little bit of Andrew. Andrew was a sweet and kind lad, but a heavy sleeper who met his doom when one of Reaver's other lovers grew jealous and set the bloody house on fire two hundred fifty years ago. If only he wasn't such a heavy sleeper.

The pirate king ascended the stairs leading to his study and opened it, revealing a beautiful interior filled with the most luxurious furniture one could purchase. Most of it was spoils from his raids as a pirate, including the desk.

He took a seat and started to fill out the necessary paperwork for tomorrow, which included some autograph requests from a few admirers of his. One he knew personally, a particularly stubborn lass by the name of Benjamina. She had once shown up at his mansion and demanded that he sign a part of her body in a rather vulgar way. He had never in his life met anyone who wanted his name imprinted on their backside as much as her. It was quite crude, but also amusing to think that this woman would proudly walk around Bowerstone Market with his name firmly imprinted on her rear end. Her bedroom prowess, however, left a lot to be desired.

He scoffed in annoyance when he saw yet another request from a publisher in Brightwall pleading to let them produce another run of his scandalous autobiography. _'Not bloody likely. I do not need my reputation sullied by these imbeciles.' _He was a respectable businessman after all and would not take the risk just for another to gain riches. If they wanted to have more gold in their pocket, perhaps they ought to learn from him and take to becoming a skilled pirate. Or just be born into it from the beginning.

He took another pull from his bottle of brandy, thinking of how far the princess had come in such a short amount of time. She already had Brightwall and the castle soldiers at her beck and call; now all she needed was the support of the capital. The nobles would come around in time if rumours about her treason surfaced.

Reaver realized with a start that she was counting on it; she knew that he wouldn't be able to keep such juicy gossip to himself and would consequently spread the word as subtly as he could. _'You know me a little too well, dear. All part of your brilliant plan to make Logan more and more paranoid so the people themselves begin clamouring for you to take the throne. To think that I, Reaver, have a hand in starting a coup. Logan could accuse me of it, for sure, but he wouldn't have any proof. It would make him seem more like a madman and the princess as the rightful ruler. Annabel, you are one very clever girl. I owe you a lot more credit than I initially gave you.' _

She was quite an interesting catch indeed. If he knew her like he thought he did, the princess would inevitably wed him to keep him close to her side as a valuable ally. It would also serve as a display of power to remind her subjects that they now had a Hero on the throne. _'Oh the horrified look on that snotty little boy Elliot's face when Annabel and I exchange vows will be glorious to behold. One ought to make a painting out of it.' _

Reaver knew very well that Annabel was not a pure virgin like her brother thought. She had in fact indulged in the act of sex many times, mostly with Elliot, but if the rumour was to be believed she had also bedded a rather attractive girl named Candace after dealing with the castle steward Alastair. Good riddance too; the man smelled like a bloody sewer.

The servants were positively buzzing with excitement at the news of Alastair's death, glad to know that someone had heard their cries and acted accordingly. However, if questioned, none of them would tell Logan the truth about the princess being the one to murder the drunkard. They'd tell him it was an unfortunate accident in which the steward tripped over his own chamber pot and fell into a blaze. His corpse did have horrible burns on it so no one would suspect otherwise, though Logan would keep a closer eye on Annabel. Yet another thing she was gambling on.

'_You want Logan to keep a closer eye on you. You'll feign loyalty to him while he goes mad trying to figure out your plans to overthrow him. You naughty girl; I'm beginning to like you more and more.' _The king would be devastated at this betrayal and it would possibly break him, but Reaver knew the princess didn't care about their bond anymore. All she cared about now was taking her rightful spot on the throne.

"Master Reaver?" Barry knocked on the door and clumsily opened it, carrying an ornate plate with several slices of roast duck on it. "I have your supper."

"Ah, thank you." Reaver finished signing an autograph for another one of his admirers and looked up, pushing aside some unimportant papers to make room. "Thank you Barry. Now run along and make sure those bloody peasants polish that statue perfectly. I want to see my face shining in it by morning."

"As you command." Barry bowed and left Reaver alone in his study.

Reaver cut off a slice of meat and popped it into his mouth, chewing. It was cooked to perfection; duck by nature was a little greasier than chicken was, but not as fatty as mutton. It held a certain elegance despite it being greasy and he took another bite of the savoury meat. _'Having charisma as well as riches means that anyone can live like royalty. Those who are missing one will find themselves as being nothing like sheep herded to slaughter.'_

He also made sure to reward his servants appropriately. When they performed their tasks to the letter in a timely manner and without complaint, he would occasionally slide a little extra gold their way as compensation. One could not say he wasn't a fair and generous man. That said, he was careful in how he administered their pay. Too much and they would take the money and leave. Too little and they'd go on strike only to be made an example of. As much of a thrill as it gave him, he couldn't go around shooting his staff for mere laughs.

Reaver finished his meal in a hurry. It was beginning to get rather late in the day and he wanted to finish his paperwork before the sun fully set. If there was one downside to being a successful businessman, it was that he didn't have terribly reliable servants who could competently read and write. As a result, he had to fill out every piece of parchment himself. A little annoyance but if everything went as he thought it would in the coming weeks, he'd have an entire castle full of competent servants for him to dump the burden on.

"Why the bloody hell does Oakfield's sculptor want me to do a nude pose for the entire village to see? BARRY! Why didn't you toss this into the bloody fire!? Don't you ignore me, you snivelling hobbe-loving mutt! I know you opened this!"

Maybe he wouldn't dump everything on his new servants after all.

_**A/N: If there's one thing I love doing more than lewding the fuck out of the princess, it's having Reaver rant about idiots XD. Seriously, he's endless entertainment. **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	7. Scarlet Flame

_**A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 7. Last time we ended off with Reaver's delicious rant at Barry (I love Jonathan Ross's voice for him xD) and now, we get more into what I have planned with some fun lore dump. I'll try to not make it tedious, I promise...**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Scarlet Flame***

Clad in her favourite black attire, Annabel's head was high as she entered the dining hall. She had woken up early without having to rely on Jasper's constant badgering and decided to attend to today's matters as early as possible. She tucked her skirt under her as she took a seat, giving the platter of food prepared a hopeful sniff. Rich aromas of perfectly cooked meat and fresh produce filled her nose and the princess helped herself, being careful to not let the lacy ruffles trail into the platter.

The princess took a bite out of a shiny red apple, the fruit's skin crunching under her teeth. It was sweet and she looked up as the head chef walked in, bowing. "Your majesty. A pleasure to see you this morning. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"These taste divine," Annabel murmured quietly. "Tell me, Jonathan, has my brother already woken up?"

"Yes," the chef answered promptly. "He said he had urgent business with a foreign delegate from Eastern Samarkand that he needed attending to. I'm quite surprised he didn't ask for your presence, especially since he has long since trusted your judgment on such affairs."

"I see." The princess frowned and took another bite of her apple. Something about this behaviour seemed a little off to her. _'What in the name of Skorm are you playing at, brother? I suspected that you would want to keep me closer so you can watch me. But instead, you're keeping me away. Is this you being paranoid about me turning the representatives from foreign lands against you or is it something else? Either way, it looks like this plan of mine just got a little bit more difficult. Damn you, Logan.'_

She finished her fruit and used a provided cloth to wipe any hints of stray juices off of her chin. "I'll be on my way then." _'I don't recall Logan mentioning meeting with anyone from Eastern Samarkand yesterday. There isn't one on the royal schedule and there's no way one could make that journey in such short notice. Dammit, he may have pushed me into a corner here. I don't have any choice but to feign innocence of the situation he's put me in and pretend I'm still loyal to him.' _

Annabel left the dining hall behind, walking with quick strides to the combat room. It originally had been a study, but after construction of more rooms and chambers under Sparrow's rule, it had been repurposed into a place for one to practice and improve upon their combat capabilities.

In terms of swordsmanship, she could easily defeat even the best of Logan's private elite guard. However, the king himself was much capable in battle. Untold amounts of enemies both foreign and domestic had fallen to his blade and if Annabel wanted her coup to succeed, she needed to make sure she would not meet her death at the end of Logan's cutlass.

The young woman closed the door to bar unwanted interruptions from any intruders, flipping the lock. Her hair was tucked into a neat bun to prevent it from falling into her eyes and she strode over to one of the many weapon racks lining the room. Swords of various different styles were carefully laid out and instead of choosing a traditional Albion longsword, her eyes found the slightly faded steel of a much more exceptional blade. _'Perfect.' _

She picked it up to study it more closely. It was a katana from Eastern Samarkand; the fine swords were made by warrior monks high in the mountains of the country who trained day and night with their weapons. Very few swords could match their craftsmanship; it was of much better quality than any attempts made by Albion's blacksmiths. Try as they might, but they were simply incapable of replicating the weapons regardless of the materials used. _'Light and perfectly balanced. One won't find a better weapon for cutting through flesh with speed and grace.' _

She gave the weapon a twirl in her hand, the handle spinning in her fingertips. It was no doubt an exceptional weapon, but still it was not enough. Annabel needed something that would be a symbol for when she took the throne. A weapon of supreme and unstoppable power. If she could somehow augment it and make it even more powerful, she'd be invincible.

Her spare hand sparked with magic and she smiled. Of course, it was so simple. How had she not thought about it earlier? Being a Hero, she could infuse a little bit of her magic into weapons to make them stronger in combat. It had been done before, most recently by her late mother. So in theory, it was feasible for her to do the same. All she had to do now was decide what magic she would imbed into the sword and do it.

She was a master in commanding fire, so it would make the most sense for her to channel the deadly flames into her sword. She closed her eyes and focused her power, letting her magic hum from her body as she poured it into the cold steel. Ribbons of fiery magic swirled around the sword and it came alight, showing her that the infusion process was a success.

With her newly augmented weapon in hand, she would be able to cut a fiery swathe of wrath through her foes. It would make no challenger be able to best her, not even Logan. He too would suffer the fury of her flames, just like the rest of them. _'You are as good as dead, Logan. All I have to do is be patient and wait for the right time to strike. Your head will be rolling on the ground before you know it.' _

The fires died down on the sword and she could feel the new power coursing through it. It was so intoxicatingly wonderful, the strength of it almost enough to make her drown in lust. Annabel looked over at one of the test dummies that presumably Walter had set up for today's practice session later on and swung.

A wave of fire leapt out of the blade and incinerated the dummy, reducing it to a pile of ash. The princess smirked triumphantly at the fiery display. This sword was now hers and its named would be both revered and feared by the populace and enemies alike. _'Scarlet Flame.' _A fitting name for her tool of destruction.

Annabel plucked up her sword's scabbard and sheathed the blade, keeping its wrath contained for the time being. The light red ruffles on the scabbard dangled and danced as she secured her weapon to her belt, tying the knots to prevent it from slipping. Her training today with Walter would be very interesting to watch. The old soldier would be in awe of her new abilities.

She unlocked the doors to the combat room and cleared her throat to get the attention of the nearest servant. To her delight it was Candace, the one who had told her about Alastair's abusive practices. The young woman looked up from her task of polishing one of the statues by the main staircase and stood to bow her head.

"Your majesty. What can I do for you today?" she asked softly.

Annabel gestured to the smoking pile of ash in the combat room behind her with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Make sure that is properly cleaned up and replaced before Sir Walter comes down. Far easier to avoid complicated questions." There would be no thrill in revealing her newfound power to the old man early. She wanted to see the look of shock and awe on his face when she drew Scarlet Flame from its scabbard.

"Of course, your grace." Candace gave her a smile and dropped her voice to a quiet whisper. "I've...I've heard a few horrible rumours circulating the castle as of yesterday. It appears as though the king is suspecting you of treason!"

"Oh?" Annabel's eyebrows rose in fake curiosity; internally she was laughing with triumph. Reaver had fulfilled his task perfectly, just as she suspected he would. "I have not heard such a rumour. Can you explain further?" _'Just as anticipated. You did exactly what I suspected you would do, Reaver. At least a few good things have come out of today, it seems.'_

"A few nobles from Millfields were talking about it earlier this morning," Candace replied. "The king did have a wild look in his eyes when he came from his chambers; I wonder if he's become unfit for duty. After all we can't have a king who accuses those of heinous crimes without sufficient evidence, can we? To suspect you, it's just preposterous! He's gone raving mad!"

"It appears so. I never would have suspected that my brother would fall so far." The princess let out a sigh of fake despair. "After everything I've done for him, it appears as though it matters little. I must say, I am rather offended by such terrible accusations." _'Feign innocence and offence. The more I do that, the more easily I can sway the people towards me. They'll see nothing more than a princess doing her duty and a king who has completely lost his mind.' _

If everything went as planned, Logan would actually go mad from his inability to discover her scheme and the people would clamour for her to take his place. She'd get the power she desperately craved and be doing the kingdom a favour in the process. Of course, the final confrontation between them would inevitably come down to swords, but by the time that came around, she would be much stronger than she was at the present.

"I would imagine so," Candace agreed. "You've done so much with your efforts to improve not only our lives inside the castle, but the kingdom as a whole. Between you and me, I think you would make a much better monarch than Logan. He's a bloody tyrant."

Annabel laughed at her outburst and took a step closer to her, tilting the girl's head up with a slender finger. "You best be cautious, dear. We wouldn't want Logan to hear you say that, would we? It would bring great grief to see such a lovely face roll off the headsman's block."

As the princess dragged her finger over Candace's lips, she found it hard to resist capturing them for her own. The girl was most certainly a beautiful prize; she found it hard to believe that no one had attempted to court her before. She was fetching, with those doe-like eyes and sweet innocent personality. Her light purple dress and striped stockings left little to the imagination and the princess chuckled at her blush.

She stepped away and the servant girl was left a blushing and stuttering mess. Her composure had been rattled by the princess's rather forward behaviour and Annabel gave her a lazy wink. "You know, it's not uncommon for a monarch to have more than one lover. Just something to keep in mind, dear." _'Soon. You will be mine, just like the throne will be. And if anyone so much as touches a hair on that pretty little head of yours, I'll kill them.'_

The princess left her to her duties and glanced out of one of the ornate windows decorating the main entrance to the castle. Sunlight streamed in through the large coloured panes of glass and she could see a line of people waiting to meet with her brother forming outside. _'A lot of people to meet my brother today. More than usual. Don't tell me it's another one of those imbeciles claiming to represent the city's poor who formed this messy excuse of a mob.' _

A pair of elite soldiers stood by the door with their rifles at the ready and the princess snapped her fingers to get their attention. The two men glanced in her direction and dropped to one knee. "Your majesty. Awaiting your orders."

The princess looked at them with a dark smile and dropped her voice to a whisper. "If any of them starts going on some sort of rant, shoot to kill. Start with the ringleaders and continue with the crowd if you deem it necessary." _'With a bit of luck, the people will blame Logan for this, seeing as they don't know the soldiers only listen to me now. Sad to waste some useful pawns, but there is no victory without sacrifice.' _

"As you command," the soldier in charge replied, smiling under his metal helmet. They would enjoy this perhaps as much as she would. They knew what would happen to them if they disobeyed and none of them desired to suffer a horrifying death at the hands of her fiery magic.

Annabel walked off, laughing quietly to herself. Oh the joy it would bring her to see the people blame her brother for a vicious and horrible attack on them. The clamouring of her to take the throne would drown out his pathetically weak cries of protest and they'd drag him off it themselves or die trying. Those foolish enough to attempt such a courageous feat would most certainly die to Logan's steel, but that would only make the fires of revolution burn hotter.

The greatest coup in Albion's history was underway and she was at the head of it. However, she would not forget the one who helped set it all into motion. Reaver had done his part extraordinarily well. If he lived through it, his name would go down in history.

It wasn't long before Annabel once again found herself in the castle's library. A few dusty old tomes from various points in Albion's history decorated the bookcases as well as others, but she paid no attention to the once popular works of the author Meredith Sock. His works were once highly sought out due to their incredible popularity, but now they were considered to be utter rubbish. Still, that didn't stop people from indulging in reading them occasionally. The princess herself was a fan of his book, 'Cold Lips', a novel that was both scandalous and delicious. It told the story of Eduarda, the beautiful maid of a wealthy household who ruthlessly slept with every family member to get what she desired. She climbed her way through the service ranks to become the personal aid to Lady Sickly. When Lady Sickly is later found murdered, all fingers pointed at the voluptuous maid, however it was later found out that she had been framed by one of her jealous lovers.

It was most certainly an erotic piece of literature and not one would consider to be very good quality; in fact, after it had been published some seventy years ago, it received very scathing reviews from critics. However that didn't stop it from becoming a runaway hit with the many servants who toiled away behind the scenes of Fairfax Gardens.

Annabel frowned when she saw one book in particular catch her eye. It was shiny and with a golden spine, standing out amongst the dull greys and blacks of more traditional books. _'I don't recall seeing that one before. I have no idea how I could have possibly missed it. It's not like it's subtle.' _

Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled it out from the shelf, wiping a bit of dust off of the cover. An ancient symbol that she did not recognize decorated the cover and she tapped it with her forefinger. The book seemed to hum with magical power and she looked around to see if anyone was watching. No prying eyes anywhere as far as she could see and she slowly flipped it open.

_The Blade of Fire_

_In Albion, many wondrous secrets are waiting to be revealed to the world. Some are nothing more than mere speculation, such as the belief that the Archons still live amongst us. But some are not fiction and are proven fact. One such story is the Blade of Fire, from the land of Eastern Samarkand._

_Some fifty years before Zuna Daichi's rise to power in the region, East Samarkand was a land of peaceful yet deadly warrior monks who trained night and day honing their craft with their remarkable blades. It was said that each katana they created contained a drop of the user's blood in the forging, as to make it truly the wielder's one. This tradition led to many believing that one could not wield another's sword. _

_However, one sword has remained constant in this land's history. The sword of fiery wrath, the blade of fire, the one that has the power to burn everything in its path. Scarlet Flame, a terrible weapon said to channel the very rage of the Archons through deadly magic. _

_No one knows who the one who built the blade was; all records from the land are inconclusive and unreliable due to there being no official documents pertaining to the sword's creation. Some say that it was a wandering Hero who was angry at the destruction of the Temple of Avo. Some, that a necromancer bent on making the country bow to his power. All that is known is that everyone who has taken it up became an unstoppable force, burning all in their path and not stopping until the sword's flames consumed their soul for itself. It cannot be destroyed; indeed, even the hottest flames of the legendary Forge of Light in the eastern mountains seemed to cool when it was placed within. _

_With the downfall of the Daichi Empire following Zuna's sacrifice in Albion, Scarlet Flame was said to have been lost forever during its final deadly clash with the legendary Daichi katana, the only weapon known to have stood against it and survive to tell the tale. If it were to ever find itself in the wrong hands again, I fear nothing would be able to stop it. The world as we know would come to an end. _

Annabel stopped reading and removed her sword's scabbard from her belt, staring at it with wide eyes. She had it in her very hands. The sword that had brought countless death and destruction wherever it went. There was no coincidence as to why she found it lying amongst the other longswords in the combat room. It chose her to be its next master. By pouring her magic into it, she had given it life again, giving it the power it hadn't held in centuries.

'_This is that very blade,' _she realised. _'I'm holding it. The sword that is the bringer of death and despair. Scarlet Flame is mine.' _

Annabel's body started to glow with red Will lines and she slowly drew the katana, the blade coming to life with fire once fully revealed.

'_And not even Logan can stop it.' _

_**A/N: *whistles innocently while I just drop a bomb here. Nothing to see here, don't mind me* **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	8. Innocence

_**A/N: Well hello all and welcome to chapter eight. When we left off we had just gotten a bit of information about our princess's deadly new weapon, Scarlet Flame. Now, we continue on! **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Innocence***

Inside the throne room, Logan paced back and forth anxiously. Sweat poured down his gaunt face and his hands felt clammy as he held them clasped firmly behind his back. When he had awoken this morning, the first thing he was aware of was the tremendous agony in his limbs and the burning fever. It felt like the very muscles themselves were being eaten away by some mysterious assailant and the longer he wondered why his condition had taken such a drastic change the more he suspected Annabel had a hand in it.

But how could he prove it? There was no evidence he could find to prove his suspicions and he knew if he said something out loud then he would begin to look like a rambling madman. It would hurt his public image, especially since he could see just how popular his younger sister was becoming amongst the common rabble.

So how was he supposed to find out just what the bloody hell she was up to without looking like a madman? _'If I cannot go for the direct approach, then perhaps I shall play this game of hers as subtly as possible.'_ Yes, that had to be it. To find out just exactly what she was up to, he had to pretend he did not have the slightest suspicion. She would reveal her true intentions and he could deal with it accordingly.

The king of Albion stood a little taller despite his ailment and took in a shaky breath. The crisp clean air did little to ease his upset stomach and for a moment he wondered if he would vomit onto the light blue carpets. He pushed the bile down and remained firm, refusing to acknowledge the pain in his body as his mysterious attacker continued its barrage on his body. Judging by the affects it was having on him, he assumed he had been poisoned in some manner. Every king had his enemies and he was no exception.

'_Whoever it is, they're either too much of a bloody coward to challenge my rule directly or they are very clever.'_ A tight lipped scowl formed on his face and he sent a scathing glare towards one of the two guards stationed by the entrance to the throne room. "You. Come forward. I have a task for you." Sure he had his suspicions about Annabel, especially after one of their conversations regarding her unnecessary harshness. But part of him still doubted she would stoop that low. She was still his little sister. Or rather, he wanted to believe she wouldn't.

"Of course, your majesty. What are your orders?" The soldier dropped to one knee.

"I want you to shadow the princess," Logan ordered. "However, do not let her know what your intentions are. You are to report any suspicious activity to me. Do I make myself clear, lieutenant?"

"Yes, your majesty. I live to serve the ruler of Albion," the officer replied quietly.

"Good. Now see to the task at hand. You are dismissed." Logan instinctively felt his hand twitch towards his cutlass and he had to dismiss that urge. _'No. Keep calm. Getting paranoid will only lead to more harm. I cannot afford to give the people the mindset that I am mentally unstable.' _

The soldier left to his duties and the king glanced at the large circular map in the room. He strode over to it quietly, running his hand along the side. "This is my Albion. Its mountains will bend to my will or they will fall. Its cities will do as I decree or they will burn. This is my Albion. Its people will do as I say...or they will die. I've seen what must be done and nothing will stand in my way. We will be better and we will be stronger no matter what sacrifices we must make!"

He turned around and gripped the map tighter, scowling. "This is my Albion and I see her destroyed before I surrender her. No matter whom our enemy is." _'A king has enemies, but those fools do not understand what I saw in Aurora. The creature that dwells in the shadows is coming here and I have to prepare for the attack when it comes.' _

When he was out scouting the deserts outside the kingdom of Aurora with a full legion of men, he stumbled into an ancient abandoned temple that radiated pure malice. Logan went to investigate its shadowy depths to deal with the threat, but all of his skill and training was in vain. Every single man he brought with him was slain by the most hideous of monsters, a foul beast that called itself the Crawler. A truly repugnant being spawned in the Void itself, it took create pleasure in killing, turning his men into nothing but shadows and laughing at the king's pain.

The king nearly died himself, having been severely wounded by the Crawler's magic and claws. Through pure blind luck or perhaps the blessing of Avo, he managed to crawl out of the temple and collapsed in the sands due to blood loss. In the desert he was found by a hunting party from Aurora and they brought him to their city, tending to his wounds and restoring him back to health. In the city, he saw what the Crawler had done to the once proud warrior kingdom.

Once full of life and prospering, the Crawler attacked the city and brought death and destruction, killing hundreds. The Auroran people were doomed. Before he departed the land, he made a promise to the ruler, Kalin. He promised that he would return with the greatest army he could muster and save them from the Crawler. That was four years ago and still he had not returned.

He did feel somewhat guilty about breaking that promise, but he had to have time to build the army they needed. Four years had not been enough. He had elite soldiers at his command, but they would need more men and women willing to die for their country. Not an easy task, especially with enlistment being rather poor the last two years. But he would manage to find a way just as he always had.

This was his Albion and he would not lose her without a fight.

* * *

Annabel sat down on one of the finely crafted wooden benches that were scattered around the castle gardens, a glass of red wine in one hand and a book in the other. The wind rustled through the garden and she took a sip of her drink. She didn't normally consume alcohol, having seen firsthand how it affected people. However, she would allow herself to enjoy the finer pleasures of life from time to time.

The novel she was reading was Meredith Sock's _Cold Lips_. Even though it was considered to be nothing more than erotic rubbish by the kingdom's upper class citizens, it was still a very enjoyable piece of literature. She had just gotten to the chapter when Eduarda had slept with Lord Sickly's son to get him to overlook a broken statue and she felt a hot blush creep up on her delicate face. It was sort of exciting. Here she was, the princess of Albion, reading erotic literature for her own enjoyment. If someone was to walk by and get a good look at the cover, no doubt scandalous rumours would begin floating around the castle.

She wouldn't pay them any mind; if anything it would be amusing to see how they would react to the news. Some of course would be shocked and sickened, mainly the prudish twits who refused to indulge in any sort of carnal bliss. Others however would be positively bubbling with excitement, eager to hear why she was reading it. If they asked she'd give them the honest answer. It was enjoyable, put simply.

And in her opinion it was much better than most of the other books in the castle library. A few were interesting, such as _Reaver on Reaver_ and the one that contained the information of her newly acquired weapon, but most of them were the same load of old tosh. Dull, repetitive, and written for those who lacked any sort of taste and variety.

She felt Scarlet Flame twitch a little on her belt and she placed her wine down to stroke the weapon's golden handle as if to soothe it. _'There, there. Do not fret. You will taste blood, I assure you. You just need to be patient and wait for the right time. It does us no good to act pre-emptively and reveal our intentions too early.'_

The fiery katana was alive in a sense, having devoured the souls of at least a dozen warriors before her. It was very similar to the Souldrinker sword that was kept locked in the castle vaults; both weapons were forged from the unknown and contained unimaginable power. However, there were differences between the two weapons. Souldrinker grew stronger from the blood of deceit, whereas Scarlet Flame was more deadly and relied on the Will, channelling the magic from the wielder through the blade.

The deadly katana stopped its movements and the princess went back to her drinking. She heard a noble sniff indignantly as they passed by but she did not pay them any sort of attention. Not when they would all be bending knee to her very soon. And they would. They would either drop to their knees and pledge their loyalty to her or they would perish in the most gruesome of ways. Simple as that. They wouldn't really have much of a choice in the matter; she wouldn't take no for an answer.

'_Pathetic little toys. You'll be begging me to take the throne away from my brother, like the helpless little sheep you are. When that time comes, Albion will be in a new age. We will be better and stronger than ever before. No one will dare to cross us.' _Annabel turned to the next page in her book and took another sip. _'Quite nice. I see why the less prudish members of Albion's upper echelon enjoy this as much as they do. One could become addicted to the simple taste very easily.'_

She didn't get very far into the next page, for an elite soldier approached her and dropped to his knee. "My queen."

"Rise, lieutenant." Annabel glanced over at him, shielding her eyes from the sunlight gleaming off of his shiny steel armour. "What news do you have for me? Good, I trust?"

"Yes. The king has ordered me to spy on you," he answered quietly, rising to his feet. "No doubt he suspects you of something. What should I tell him in my report?"

Annabel smirked and went back to reading, lightly skimming the words. "Exactly what my brother told you. He wants you to look for any suspicious activity that may be a threat to the kingdom. You have not seen anything that is a threat to Albion so you can tell him that exactly. No doubt he'll be unpleased with your efforts, but there will not be anything he can do about it. Not without proving the suspicions many are having about him correct."

At the beginning of the day, she was worried that Logan had backed her into a corner, making it hard for her to manoeuvre efficiently without revealing everything. But now? Now her confidence in her plans had returned and she was able to push back at him. She underestimated how loyal the soldiers were to her and their loyalty could not go unrewarded.

"As you command. Shall I take my leave of you then?" the lieutenant asked.

Annabel chuckled and gave him a coy smile. "For now. However, your loyalty towards me cannot be overlooked. Don't fret; I shall reward you handsomely for your efforts."

She didn't plan on rewarding them with her body; despite her flirting with Candace and activities with Elliot she was not promiscuous. No doubt her brother wouldn't see it that way and would be infuriated that she had lain with someone outside of marriage, however she didn't mind. Princess or not she still had those same natural urges that needed to be satisfied every now and then. If she had to take a guess on who would be more entertaining to bed, she'd pick Candace any day. That sweet innocence had a certain charm to it, unlike Elliot's consistent act of following her around like a bloody dog. Deflowering her would be very thrilling. It would be far more exciting than sleeping with Elliot.

The soldier saluted smartly, the faintest hints of a smile visible underneath his shiny helmet. "Yes, your majesty. Thank you."

The princess went back to enjoying her book, watching the man leave. She could only imagine the look of frustration on her brother's face when he'd get the report that she was not up to anything. Give it a few more days and he'd soon go mad from being unable to discover the plot against him. An assassination attempt or two might also help the cause, if the opportunity to hire one arose. She'd be the first to strike them down and it would increase Logan's worry and paranoia. A win-win situation. It would also give her a chance to see just what Scarlet Flame was capable of in battle.

"Dear me, reading such a provocative and erotic piece of work? You are just full of surprises, my little sweet," a silky and familiar voice remarked behind her. Annabel turned around over her shoulder to see Reaver himself had joined her; she hadn't even heard him approach. Impressive. Not many could sneak up on her, but he was the Hero of Skill after all.

"Good afternoon, Reaver," Annabel said coolly, snapping the book shut. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" _'I didn't even hear him. Impressive how he could just waltz up to me before I even realise it. Also makes him dangerous. Maybe I should drop all distractions and focus before I get killed.' _

"It is simply a tiresome day and the court has no appointments for me today. Boredom can be a rather dangerous foe." Reaver flashed his devilishly handsome smile and reached into his long white coat to pull out a bottle of brandy. "Do you mind if I join you? You look like you could use some pleasurable company."

"Certainly. Please have a seat." Annabel gestured next to her and the businessman took a seat next to her, popping open the bottle and taking a healthy swig from it.

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Reaver started the conversation again. "I must say, it never gets old seeing how quickly this kingdom prospered under your late mother's rule. She was quite the remarkable woman as you know. So fiery, and yet so elegant."

"Indeed she was," Annabel agreed with a nod. "I can only hope to live up to her reputation and prove myself worthy." She sipped her wine and met his dark gaze. "However, that is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"

"Perceptive, aren't we?" Reaver smirked. "You are quite correct, my dearest. I wanted to ask you what you are planning on doing."

"Can you please elaborate on the subject?" Annabel feigned innocence. "I can assure you that I mean no harm to the kingdom my mother worked so very hard to build and sustain." It was true; she did not want to destroy the foundation that the late queen Sparrow had forged from sheer willpower alone. Rather, she wanted to usurp the deceiver that called himself the king and sat on its throne.

"That may be the case. However you and I both know that your brother will not see it that way," Reaver replied. "In fact, if I may so bold, he would call you a traitor to the crown and have you publicly executed."

"That's only if he manages to catch me in the act." Annabel smiled coldly. "I do not plan on letting that happen. I only plan on revealing my intentions when it is too late for him to stop me."

"My, my. A little conversation in the throne room is really all it took for me to ignite your darkest desires?" Reaver chuckled and took another drink. "Perhaps I underestimated just how powerful your ambitions were. Are there any other desires of yours that you wish granted? Perhaps freedom from something that is keeping you chained like a dog?"

Annabel paused to think. She was essentially leading a coup, she had an army willing to fight and bleed for her, and a weapon of devastating power. Was there anything that she really needed at the moment? _'There is Elliot. I don't want to lose the pawn so early, but being rid of him would grant me a bit more freedom and let me operate without him constantly following me around like a sheep.' _

"Perhaps." She flashed the tall man a sinister grin and downed the rest of the contents in her glass, placing it beside her. "Tell me something, Reaver. How easily are you able to make accidents happen? Tragic accidents that will have me feigning tears and help my brother slowly lose what little sanity he has left?"

"It is one of my greatest abilities. Is there someone you need taking care of?" Reaver asked. "And who may it be?"

"There is someone who I would very like to leave me alone. Permanently," Annabel said quietly. "I'm sure you know who it is. A certain boy who is everywhere I go; being free of him will allow this to go a lot smoother."

The Hero of Skill chuckled and stood up, his dark gaze meeting hers. By Skorm she could lose herself in those shadowy depths forever. The smell of pixie tear perfume wafted from his body and the princess almost let out a groan of want.

His hand reached towards her face and she didn't flinch away as he drew closer, his warm breath tickling her. "I can very easily arrange that, my dear. Just say when and it's as good as done." His ringers were not dainty and smooth; rather they had a hint of ruggedness to them, a sign of his life as a Hero and master marksman.

"Next week," she whispered. "Right after the scheduled court appearance with the representatives from Brightwall and Bowerstone Old Quarter." The sweet scent rolling off of him was almost too much for her to bear and she tried to subtly rub her thighs together.

"Consider it done, my sweet." Reaver grinned. "In the meantime, I do hope you have a way of satisfying those primal urges of yours. It would do you no good to just keep it all contained." Damn, he had noticed.

"Maybe I do," Annabel countered. "And perhaps it is standing right in front of me."

"Naughty little minx." Annabel was disappointed when Reaver drew away, waggling his finger with a teasing smirk on his face. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that, dear. Consider that your payment for enlisting my services."

"You have yourself a deal." She wouldn't offer herself to a soldier who would inevitably meet his end on the battlefield, but Reaver? The man had lived through the crisis of the Spire's rebirth and fought alongside her mother as a Hero. He was worthy of that honour. She just had to wait to be free of Elliot before giving herself to him. In a week's time, the frustrating boy would be as good as dead and she'd have the freedom she desperately yearned for.

Reaver tapped his cane on the soft grass and chuckled before leaving, giving her a slow wink. "Tatty bye, my devilish little sweet."

Annabel watched him leave the gardens behind and she groaned. That rather persistent side of her wasn't going to go away anytime soon and she could use some nice stress relief before her brother came storming down foaming at the mouth.

"Damn you Reaver."

_**A/N: *whistles innocently and dusts my hands of any murder. Nope.* To be honest, I never liked Elliot at all in F3. He's just so goddamned annoying to deal with! Like shut the hell up before I take you to Lesley's cult and sacrifice you for fuck's sake.**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	9. Masks

_**A/N: Here I am with chapter nine. Nice to see that I am slowly but surely gaining some traffic for this. The Fable archive may be dead, but I'm gonna do everything I can to bring it back. **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Masks***

Elliot burst into Annabel's chambers, forgetting to even bother to knock. He wasn't a stranger to seeing her undressed but he still turned bright red when he saw her sitting on the window ledge wearing nothing but her underwear. "A-annabel! So sorry!"

'_Persistent boy. No matter what I do, he always seems to have a knack for disturbing me whenever I actually want to be alone. It's too good to be a coincidence,' _the princess thought dryly. She briefly considered telling Reaver to push the assassination to an earlier date just so she wouldn't have to deal with this constant annoyance. She squashed that thought immediately. It wouldn't do her any good to act irrationally now.

"Oh. It's just you. What do you want?" she asked, brushing a few loose strands of her light brown hair away. Annabel hadn't moved from her spot, looking over her shoulder at the teenage noble boy.

"I just heard the news," Elliot answered with a pant, his hands on his knees. "Apparently, Logan ordered his soldiers to fire upon a crowd! I can't believe it!" He was nearly doubled over but the princess could see his face remained crimson.

'_Perfect. Once that rumour starts circulating, the people will slowly but surely see him as nothing but a power hungry tyrant. All according to plan.' _Annabel hid her smirk and let out a dramatic sigh. "I do hope it's just a rumour. It will be very detrimental to his public image if it isn't."

"He's locked himself inside his study; he looked to be in a very ill temper," Elliot reported. "Something's wrong with him. I know he's been incredibly stressed as of late, but to do this to your own people...it's just maddening!"

"That it is," Annabel agreed. "Did you come here just to tell me that?"

"No." The boy shook his head. "Sir Walter wanted me to find you for today's combat training. He seems bloody obsessed with it lately."

'_So it seems even Walter is having serious doubts about Logan's leadership.' _Annabel stood up from her spot and brushed past Elliot to her wardrobe, her steps slow. "Tell him I'll be in the combat room in ten minutes."

"Of course!" Elliot looked way too thrilled to handle such a menial task and hurried away, making Annabel scoff. If one stripped away his fancy clothes one would think he was nothing more than a bloody courier. It was getting hard for her to tell them apart at times. The main difference was that she didn't sleep with a courier boy.

'_Too eager to please. Spoiled from birth and never had to work for anything in his entire damn life like the little brat he is.'_ Her lip curled in irritation as she pulled open a few drawers to find some clothes more suitable for exercise. While her royal attire was very comfortable, it also constricted movement in combat situations and she couldn't have that, even with Scarlet Flame in hand.

She also had to rethink her combat strategy. Longswords and katanas were different weapons and required different techniques to use them to their full potential. A longsword had a blade on both sides of the steel, whereas a katana only had one long curved edge. The other side of the weapon was blunt, presumably for bruising and nonlethal knockouts. Still there were fewer weapons that were more suited for cutting through flesh and armour with ease.

Annabel fitted on a dark green set of pants and shirt, presumably made for higher ranking military officials. The material was similar to leather, but not as constricting. It allowed for freer movements and the thighs of the pants had a little bit of extra padding to protect the wearer from bullets and swords. The chest of the shirt had similar padding too. The suit was a little heavier than what she was used to wearing but it wasn't cumbersome.

The princess looked at herself in the large mirror, noticing that it clung to her body and showcased her feminine curves. It would be sure to grab the attention of those who secretly desired her and make other respect the power she now wielded. It made her look commanding on top of being enticing.

She picked up Scarlet Flame from its resting place on her personal weapons rack, tracing a finger down the golden scabbard. The deadly sword was craving release from its prison and she could feel it shake when touched. _'So restless. This is a weapon meant for war, not politics. Do not worry; you will get to have some fun today. That is a promise.'_

The princess strode confidently out of her quarters with her fiery katana in hand, walking along the castle balcony. As per the usual two soldiers were standing guard on the walkway and they saluted smartly. "Your majesty."

Annabel gave them curt nods but continued on her way, not stopping. Walter was never a patient man and even though he was essentially a father to her, she did not want to keep him waiting.

The stairs leading down to the castle gardens were quiet and so were the gardens themselves. No one was around, not even the servants. However, her peaceful walk through them was disrupted by her combat instructor, Walter. The former soldier was pacing back and forth, his large moustache ruffling.

He looked up when he saw her approach, his gruff features set in a frown. "About bloody time you showed up. I sent that damn boy Elliot to fetch you nearly thirty minutes ago."

"Apologies. He caught me at a rather...compromising time," she answered carefully. "What's going on? I thought we would be down in the combat room."

Walter let out a sigh and fished a pipe out of his pocket along with a box of matches. "I'm sure you heard the rumour, right?"

"You mean the one about my brother ordering his men to fire on a crowd?" Annabel feigned innocence of the situation despite being the one who gave the order. Inside she was laughing gleefully. Another good blow against her brother.

"Yes." Walter nodded and lit his pipe, taking a slow puff. "Well, I am afraid they are quite true. It's all they're talking about down in the city. Who knows what Logan will do next? In the meantime, the mood in the castle is getting more and more uneasy with each day. They won't say it but the people are beginning to look up to you more. They seem to think that you're a natural leader."

"Is that so?" Annabel raised an eyebrow and glanced out to look at the city below the castle. "Hmm. Interesting. That certainly explains why you sent Elliot to find me."

"Indeed," the old soldier said. "The people of Albion are going to need you soon. I have to make sure that you are as ready as can be. Draw your sword." Walter slowly drew his own blade, a weather beaten longsword that had seen countless battles. Little did he know that this would be its last fight.

Annabel took about five steps backward from him and pressed on the hilt of the golden katana, pushing the weapon out of its sheathe by mere centimetres. "I'll show you my resolve."

Student and teacher slowly circled each other and Walter attacked first. He came forward with a hard thrust that would've killed anything short of a balverine. Annabel rolled out of the way, still not fully drawing her weapon. She didn't need to end this match so soon.

Walter's moustache furrowed and he spun, his sword spinning in his old hands. The sharp metal collided with the scabbard of the princess's katana and he frowned. "You seem to be holding back."

"Perhaps," she returned coyly, a flicker of amusement flashing in her dark eyes. "I'd hate for either of us to leave the gardens feeling bored."

Walter briefly looked at the golden scabbard and narrowed his eyes, studying the fine paint and runes. "Where did you get that? I don't recall ever seeing it in the armoury."

"I found it," Annabel answered, jumping back to avoid another strike. She could feel the force as the breeze ruffled her shirt and she spun to let Walter's next blow land squarely on the scabbard again. "Rather pretty, don't you think?"

The old soldier was slowly losing his concentration. With each blocked attack he was getting more and more frustrated with his inability to land a decent blow on her. Inside, the princess was smirking in triumph. She had him beaten and hadn't even needed to draw her weapon. If she was this skilled now, she could only imagine what she would be like when she had some more proper fighting experience. Annabel would be untouchable thanks to both her Heroic powers and her fiery katana.

"Strike back, dammit!" Walter let out a frustrated growl as his next three swings hit nothing but air. "What are you waiting for?"

"If you insist." Annabel shrugged and parried another blow, finally drawing Scarlet Flame. The fiery sword's flames didn't come to life, perhaps sensing that there was no need for them. The princess took one swing and sheathed the blade when she heard the resounding crack from Walter's own sword.

The old soldier stared in disbelief as his sword fell in two pieces, leaving him with little more than the hilt. "You only went and broke the bloody thing. Impressive work. You've become quite the capable young woman. Have you been practising with that?"

"Yes," she lied. "I found that traditional swordsmanship did not fit this weapon. Albion longswords are more suited for stabbing, whereas this is most effective in quick attacks." A lie about her practicing, but not one for studying how to effective use her weapon of choice. He wouldn't be harmed by what he didn't know, at least physically. His pride would take a hit with him not being able to land a single blow on her, but he would improve just like he always had.

"You've done me proud, Annabel." Walter tossed his useless hilt aside and smiled broadly. "Just like you've always done. You are the woman that Albion needs."

"You flatter me too much." The princess brushed off his praise with a dismissive shake of her head. He had always been fonder of her than Logan, a truth the king was still envious of to this day. She would turn that fondness into a weapon. A loyal soldier who would remain at her side no matter what and thwart off any attackers. A man who would fight on the front lines in her name, cutting a swathe through the enemies of the crown.

"Only flattery if it isn't true," Walter insisted. "I couldn't land anything on you this time. By this time next week, you'll be able to toss me around like I'm nothing more than a chicken with a stick lodged in its beak."

Annabel laughed at that, looking at her katana. "Now that I would enjoy seeing." _'Even with me holding back Scarlet Flame's true potential, I still was too much for him to handle. No matter how hard he trains he will never be able to surpass me for as long as I hold this.' _The feeling of raw dominance surged in her veins, like she had just conquered an enemy.

Walter also gave the sword a suspicious look, frowning as he studied the runes again. "Strange. I could have sworn I've seen that blade somewhere before. I can't recall where, but I know enough to tell that is no normal katana. Even by Samarkand's standards it is exceptionally well made."

"It is quite lovely, isn't it?" Annabel agreed. "I admit I was rather surprised to find such a beautiful weapon lying amongst the others." The princess's katana trembled in her hands and she gripped it tighter. This would be the sword that would usurp a king and end a tyrant's rule. It chose her for a reason and nothing would stand in her way. Logan would not be able to do a damn thing about it. For as long as she held Scarlet Flame, she was invincible.

'_Not arrogance, but truth. I could just kill him now but that would still leave the kingdom in turmoil. There would be chaos, violent mobs in the streets. I cannot allow that to happen and risk endangering us to our enemies.' _If she was to be the rightful queen then she had to think like one, too. Unnecessary risk to her subjects was something she preferred to avoid if possible, though she would not hesitate to use pawns to gain leverage.

"Have you heard any other news today recently? Any complaints from the townspeople down in the city?" the princess asked, changing the subject to much more important matters. The less Walter speculated on her katana the better; he was loyal to her through and through, but she preferred to avoid a nasty confrontation with the old man. If he found out the truth, it would not end well.

"Mostly the usual complaints. Logan's taxes are rather steep but it's still manageable," Walter answered gruffly. "There have been a few complaints from the nobles of how alcohol is still not abolished throughout the kingdom, but I seriously doubt Logan would go through with that proposition. Every man and woman needs a nice cup of ale or wine every now and then. Having a limit on how much one can purchase is probably the best decision he could have made. We don't want ranting drunks getting into fights on the streets."

"Anything else?" the princess pressed. "I doubt that was everything."

"No, it wasn't," Walter conceded. "I heard a nasty rumour that has been passed around by the townsfolk and spread to the guards. Apparently there have been kidnappings in the city. Several people have gone missing entirely."

"Oh?" Annabel's curiosity was grabbed and she was paying rapt attention. "This sounds a little unsettling. Any news as to who could have done it?"

"Yes. Nigel Ferret and his gang," the old soldier answered. "They operate mainly inside Bowerstone's industrial quarter but have been known to make a few trips into the marketplace and the old quarter to carry out their deeds. I'd like to put them to the headsman's axe, but sadly no one knows their base of operations. No one but their members, that is, so finding them won't be easy."

"Hmm." Annabel pursed her lips and started to think. If she succeeded in ending the Ferret gang's activities, she would garner more support from the people and make the capital see that she was more than willing to get her hands dirty when the situation called for it. Logan wouldn't do it; in fact, she was willing to gamble on the chance that he would ignore it completely.

"I have an idea," she murmured. "I could pose as someone interested in joining. Enlist in their ranks and sabotage them from the inside. They wouldn't know what hit them if it all goes smoothly."

"What!?" Walter's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "No. No! That's just preposterous! It's far too dangerous! Even if you are a Hero there would be too many for you to handle at once!"

"As long as I have this, they won't lay a finger on me." Annabel held up Scarlet Flame and glanced over her shoulder at the city below. "We both know Logan won't even lift a bloody finger to stop them. It falls to me to undertake this task." _'Not only will it garner support for me, but it will also make Logan more paranoid. Feigning my loyalty to him is far too easy.'_

"Is that confidence or arrogance, Annabel?"

"It is calm certainty. If a few lowlife thugs were enough to defeat a Hero, then the Hero of Oakvale would have died in Twinblade's camp."

Walter shook his head, sighing. "Annabel, you're not ready. Not yet. You may have bested me today but do you think you can take on a dozen thugs at once?"

"With this in my hands and my magic? Yes." Annabel nodded. "I have practiced with my powers since they were unlocked and my swordsmanship is better than it was before. I am not a defenceless little girl, Walter. I am the princess."

Walter opened his mouth to argue, but he could not come up with a response. He could not continue without implying she was still nothing more than a child. She was more than that. She was a Hero.

"Very well," he conceded, admitting defeat. "The best place for you to start looking is in Bowerstone Market. They're known to make trips to the pub there and make life unpleasant for everyone. If you can manage to catch one of them alone, you might be able to get some information out of him. Just be sure to get him completely pickled. These young thugs are bloody lightweights so it shouldn't be too difficult. And don't walk in looking like you're about to storm a castle; no one is dumb enough to give a soldier information."

Annabel chuckled and started to walk to her quarters to change into something more appropriate. "Don't worry. I think I can manage." _'Something that will get their attention, but also not make me look suspicious. Hmm.' _

Acquiring new clothing would not be an easy task due to her not being allowed outside of the castle. Logan would absolutely lose his mind if he caught word that she had ventured outside of the castle's walls and into the city's streets.

Was she really bothered by it, though? Not really. Trivial matters did not concern her anymore. If Logan were to challenge her about it, it would make him look more like a ranting madman and that was something he could not afford to do. He had to know that. If he didn't then he was a bigger fool than she expected.

It would be the end of his reign and she would be victorious.

"Now, where the bloody hell is that irritating little butler of mine? Jasper! Where the devil are you!? I need you to get something! Don't ignore me, you bloody little insect! I will put you in a cave full of bats if you don't get your arse out here!"

_**A/N: Why do I love this so much? No really, why do I enjoy this as much as I do? WTF?**_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	10. Seduction

_**A/N: Hello and welcome to Chapter 10. Been a little hectic lately with work being an utter pain in the ass and having less motivation than ever before, but I'm still here churning out stuff. Want to get back into the writing mindset anyway. **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Seduction***

Late in the evening, Annabel patiently waited in The Cow and Corset, Bowerstone Market's primary source of income. The tavern was bustling with life; on the first floor bartenders and barmaids hurried to make their rounds serving drinks to customers and the second floor was filled with rambunctious drunks singing horribly at the top of their lungs. Not the most pleasant sound she had to endure, but it was tolerable. For now.

She sat in a lone corner on the second floor of the tavern, enjoying what was either her fourth or fifth pint of ale. Despite not being a seasoned veteran in the art of drinking, her Heroic blood gave her a remarkable tolerance to alcohol. She wasn't even feeling tipsy yet and placed her mug down, her dark green gaze briefly flickering down as a trio of men entered.

All three of them were dressed like typical bandits, rifles slung on their backs and wearing grubby clothing they probably stitched together themselves when no one was looking. Tattoos marked their exposed arms and even from her spot she could tell they weren't exactly clean. _'Typical brutes. Not a single ounce of class amongst them. Even the common rabble has more elegance than them.' _

She bit her tongue to prevent herself from saying a sarcastic remark. Hero or not she was still outnumbered and in public no less. The quieter her operation went the better. Causing a brawl in the middle of the pub was not a good idea and would most definitely go back to Nigel Ferret one way or another. Not to mention Logan would be infuriated if he heard the news.

The princess looked down at her chosen attire for slipping into Ferret's base. It definitely looked mercenary enough, with the dull blue jacket and slightly torn ruffles dangling over her right shoulder. The shorts were a little too small for her liking, but she'd deal with it. At least they highlighted her assets, something that could prove to be useful and allow her easier entry.

The three ruffians were already beginning to make life unpleasant for everyone else in the pub, leering at a few of the female population and making unpleasant remarks. _'Wait. Once one of them gets alone, I can get a bit of information out of him one way or another. If he wants a fight then he'll get more than he bargained for.'_ With a little luck one of them would notice her and immediately seek her out.

Annabel of course brought Scarlet Flame with her, the golden katana dangling on her belt. Ever since she acquired the weapon she had yet to leave it out of her sight for even a moment. Call it paranoia or security, but she didn't trust others to not ask questions or even worse, bring it to Logan to see what he knew about it. The king would undoubtedly recognise the katana due to him being a veteran in expeditions and have her eliminated. Until the throne was hers, it was best to keep the katana on her at all times.

The brunette princess folded her legs and kept her eye on the scene below, trying to find out which one of the three criminals would be best for getting information. One of them was already relieving himself in the corner, laughing at everyone else's groans of disgust. Definitely not him; Annabel would probably kill him.

Another was already singing horribly at the top of his lungs, each armed wrapped around a common tavern wench and holding two large mugs of ale. He was a little too occupied for her liking. The last thing she needed was to make a scene. As amusing as it would be to just shove those two floozies away to assert her dominance, she didn't need the attention such an action would inevitably bring. _'Be subtle. What would Reaver do if he were in this situation?' _

She knew that Albion's most successful businessman was once the pirate king who ran the lawless city of Bloodstone to the southwest. While nearly all methods of transportation to the city were impossible save for by sea, it was still a part of the kingdom essential to Albion's economy by being a major trading port. Bloodstone may have been lawless, but it was still the second largest port in the kingdom behind only the capital itself. So, what would someone who once owned the entire city do if he were the one who needed information? Would he be bold and assertive, or would he prefer to sit back and wait until his prey came to him?

'_He would wait,' _Annabel mused. _'Being alive for so long taught him patience. There's no need to be so hasty. They will come to me on their own accord. For now though it is time to sit back and enjoy this delightful carnage while it lasts.' _One of the young men serving drinks strode over to her with a silver tray in his hands, his face turning a slight shade of pink when his eyes roamed over her frame.

"W-would you like another drink, madam?" he asked with a slight stutter. His initial embarrassment aside, he was rather handsome. Neatly brushed light blonde hair and green eyes that sparkled with innocence and youth. If she were a tad more promiscuous, she'd consider bedding him. However her pride wouldn't allow it.

"That would be very nice, thank you. Another ale, if you would be so kind," she requested politely. She may be bent on overthrowing her brother and completely destroying any shadow of his rule, but that didn't mean she would be rude and callous to her subjects. Little things like that would go a long way. Having a keen understanding of the Albion psyche would be a great tool to use in her coup.

"Here you are." He handed her a mug that was almost overflowing with the amount of foam on top. Walter would be very envious of her if he could see her now. He always had a thing for a massive amount of foam in his ale. That and the famous silver hen ale from Brightwall, even if it included a bloody chicken feather for flavouring. There were some things about the old soldier she would never understand and his addiction to ale was one of them.

"Thank you again." Annabel finished her current drink before taking the new one and raising it to her soft lips. She grimaced at the sound of breaking glass and she turned to see that one of the criminals had smashed a glass of beer over someone's head, drunkenly cackling like a madman. It was like he was proud of the destruction he was causing and the princess rolled her eyes. Typical brutes.

"Oh for Avo's sake." The young man groaned in annoyance and pinched his brow. "I really wish these imbeciles would just bloody leave. They do nothing but make everyone else's life unpleasant every damned night."

"This happens often?" the princess asked. "Why not do something about it then?"

"The guards won't so much as lift a bloody finger to stop them." He snorted in frustration. "They're useless. I don't know what happened to the soldiers that the king's been gathering, but they don't care about the land or the people. As far as they're concerned, we can just get robbed or have consistent damage done to our property on a daily basis. If I could do something without getting killed, I would."

'_Eventually, you push the oppressed so far down that they will fight back. Not because they desire change, but because they have nothing left to lose. They won't care if they die. Their lives were already stripped from them.' _Annabel noticed a few of the other patrons leaving in a hurry as to not get caught in the drunken brawl and she smirked when one of the bandits left to wobble upstairs. He was swaying from side to side, chuckling to himself as he clutched the staircase for support.

'_Perfect. He's alone and already somewhat drunk. He must either be a complete lightweight or he's looking to bed someone. Either way, I have him away from his friends and can easily use that to my advantage and extort some information out of him.' _Annabel shot the barman a sharp look that said to leave her and he got thankfully got the message. Nice to see not all young men were as painfully dense as Elliot. The boy couldn't take a hint if his life depended on it.

The princess sat patiently and continued to drink her ale while the drunken barbarian stumbled his way upstairs. She crossed her legs, making sure they were on display, and the drunk gave her a sleazy smile. "Well, well. Hello gorgeous. What's a pretty little lady like you doing here all alone?"

"Waiting for someone worth my while," Annabel replied smoothly. "Sadly, I have yet to see anyone worthy of my attention for more than a few brief moments." Her trap was baited and set. All she needed now was for him to take it.

"Ha! You're awfully sure of yourself!" He laughed and took a seat next to her, allowing her to see more of what he looked like. He was remarkably clean for a bandit; a few scars lined his cheeks and arms, but his teeth were clean and no trace of dirt was in his light brown hair. If it weren't for the uniform she could easily confuse him for a mercenary. Perhaps he was one.

"You look a little too clean to be acquainted with those savages." She jerked her head towards the other two below, putting as little contempt into the action as possible. "Something tells me you're either a new hire, or, as unlikely as it sounds, you actually prefer being clean."

"Sharp eye you have, miss. You're not just some pretty little face, are you?" The man chuckled and looked over his shoulder to order another drink when Annabel put her hand on his.

"How about I buy you the next two rounds? In exchange for keeping me company," she suggested sweetly. It was fake sweetness, but it would work nonetheless. All that mattered in the end was if she got the information she needed to destroy Nigel Ferret's gang and no sane man could resist the temptation of a beautiful woman offering to pay for drinks in exchange for casual talk.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart." The mercenary grinned and let Annabel call over another round for her 'guest'. The same boy from earlier fetched the two their drinks, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two communicating jovially like old friends. Annabel shot him a glare that said to not ask questions and he scurried away, not wanting to get involved.

"So, is there another reason why you decided on me as your entertainment?" he asked, chugging his drink with all the grace of a barbarian. "Contrary to your belief, I'm not as pathetically dim as the rest of those idiots."

'_Damn. He's smart. He caught on quicker than I expected.' _The princess clicked her tongue in frustration. Of all the damn bandits to try and interrogate, she had to pick the one with a brain. Still, he made no ill move towards her. "Not bad. What gave it away?"

"That sword." He motioned towards the princess's katana with a sharp glance. "I've been in Eastern Samarkand before. I don't know how the bloody hell you managed to get your hands on it, but I know damn well what that is and I know better than to mess with it."

"More than just a brute mercenary. You have some intelligence." Annabel placed her mug down and gripped Scarlet Flame tightly, pushing on the hilt to spring a few inches of steel free from the scabbard. "Now, give me one good reason to not slit your damn throat right now."

"Because if you wanted to, you would have already done it," the man countered. "I know what that katana is capable of; I'm no fool. You sought me out for a reason. You need information about Nigel Ferret's gang."

"That's right. Now, tell me where he's hiding or you'll burn," Annabel said with a sharp hiss.

The mercenary finished his drink and looked at her evenly, not a trace of fear in his eyes. "He's holed up in Bowerstone Industrial, near the rundown orphanage. You'll be able to spot out the entrance to the hideout easily; it's the only house with a thick steel door instead of these flimsy wooden ones. Just don't expect to get in without a fight; Ferret's men may not be the brightest, but there are many of them."

"You don't seem to mind stabbing your comrades in the back," she said, loosening the grip on her katana. "Rather unusual. I expected more of a fight out of you."

"I'm not a savage murderer," he shot back. "I'm a mercenary. You may see us as nothing more than cowardly vagabonds who deserted their comrades, but we have our codes just like any other soldiers. We do not murder innocents, even if we're hired to rob them. These cowards won't hesitate to execute a beggar if they wanted to."

"So, I am giving you this information to see if you can put a stop to it. I don't plan on staying with them." He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, giving it a nice ruffled look befitting of a mercenary. "I would wish you luck, but it is clear you are not the one who will need it."

"You know, I think I could find a nice use for you." Annabel grinned, standing up and tossing him a nice pile of gold. "Next week, same time. Don't be late."

The mercenary raised an eyebrow sceptically at the bag at first until he untied the string and peered inside. "Bloody hell, lass. There are at least four hundred gold coins in here. Far more than what those bastards are paying me."

"Meet me here next week and there's more in it for you." Annabel gave him a slow wink over her shoulder, her katana in hand. "Until next time, handsome."

She had everything she needed. She could kill him now if she wanted to, but doing so would be messy and waste a potentially valuable tool to her in the future. _'I'll let him live. Why waste the potential use? He could do well serving as a spy for the military when I take over as queen.' _

She had everything she needed. Now the choice lay in her hands. Did she pass the information to Walter so he could send a battalion in or did she do it herself? Obviously the soldiers were skilled in the art of warfare, but close range fighting in a dirty underground hideout was nothing like laying siege to a castle or fighting on a wide open battlefield. The kingdom would need those men for war, not raiding a mobster. If she did it, it would mean the army itself wouldn't suffer any casualties while getting the same results of Nigel Ferret's gang being destroyed.

'_I'll do it. This could actually be a very nice test to see how far along I have come. Not only that, but once word spreads of the deed, the people of Bowerstone will see that I care more about the kingdom than Logan ever will. One choice means quite a bit.' _Annabel fully sheathed her katana and left The Cow and Corset, aware of the leers the other two thugs were giving her. She met one's drunken gaze evenly and tapped her finger on Scarlet Flame's golden handle, sending him a message to back off before he was slaughtered. She'd do it if he made any kind of move towards her, unafraid of making a public display to show what would happen to those who tried anything funny with her.

The air outdoors was already cooling down, the sun having dropped almost an hour ago. The gentle sea breeze felt nice on her skin, despite the slightly salty ting it had. It was remarkable to see just how much Bowerstone had grown in the fifty years Albion had been a kingdom. It was always considered the capital of the country, but it had gotten even larger with the addition of the industrial sector and the marketplace had also seen its growth. It went from a nice market consisting of only a few large stores to having its own ports and the most frequented blacksmith and pawnbroker in the kingdom. Not even Bloodstone could match just how much gold floated through the capital, and it too was a massive port city. Needless to say, Bowerstone was the centre of both industrial and military might. If one wanted to gain control of Albion, they needed to take Bowerstone, no easy feat for even the strongest armies.

But she was not a soldier. She was the princess and a Hero. By the end of the night, Bowerstone would slowly but surely be under her control. Not through shows of brute force like a siege, but through manipulating both the hearts and minds of its citizens through her actions. They would see her for what she was; the rightful ruler of Albion.

And there was nothing Logan could do to stop her.

'_Your time on the throne is coming to an end, dearest brother. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.' _

_**A/N: And that ends this chapter. So, what'll happen in the next one? Glorious bloodshed and violence. Also ale. Because ale is good. **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	11. Demon

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter eleven. It has been awhile and for that I do apologize. Real life hit me harder than expected and I lost a significant amount of work as a result. Once I had a new laptop though it has been smoother sailing. **_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Demon***

Annabel arrived at the location given to her by the mercenary earlier in the evening, a small frown forming on her face. The neighbourhood was a filthy slum in a forgotten corner of Bowerstone's industrial quarter. It had little to set it apart from the other slums; the only notable feature was the presence of the city's orphanage. Like the other buildings in the area, it too had fallen into a state of disrepair; wooden boards covered the windows and several large holes were in the roof.

'_Revolting.' _The princess curled her lip and avoided a puddle of what appeared to be a beggar's vomit. The stench coming from the neighbourhood was enough to make a nobleman faint. It reeked of both decay and the impoverished. She felt the urge to take a bath just standing here, if only for the fear that the odour would cling to her like a foul cloud. _'I think I'll do that when I return to the castle.' _

Brushing aside her disgust for the time being, Annabel narrowed her dark eyes into a squint as she tried to make out the building she was searching for. She spotted it easily amongst the other rubble; it was in relatively good condition and had a heavy steel door blockading it just as the mercenary said it would. _'Your information was right. No wonder the guards can't lay a proper siege on it. You could only get one or maybe two people in at a time.' _

She pressed on the hilt of her katana, springing a few centimetres of razor sharp steel free from its prison. Right now, she needed to weigh her options on how to go about eradicating the vile mobsters that lurked inside. She could do the subtle approach and ask about enlisting, but she didn't exactly have time on her side; she needed to be back at the castle by dawn. Gaining their trust could take a week, maybe even more depending on how paranoid they were.

Or, she could go with the more aggressive approach. If she was honest, she liked that option a lot more than sneaking around. Annabel could feel the side of her she kept hidden from the public eye begging for release, craving the inevitable slaughter. _'Hmph. This feeling...it's so hard to keep suppressed. The thrill of it is simply too much to bear. There's nothing more exciting than feeling the rush of blood.' _A malevolent smile etched onto her delicate face and she drew the rest of Scarlet Flame, the cold steel coming to life with its unholy flames. It too craved the blood of others and she was only too happy to oblige it. _'I told you, didn't I? I assured you that you would get to taste flesh.' _

She raised it over her left shoulder and swung, creating a powerful wave of fire. The magical attack struck not the door itself, but the wooden surface around it. Without anything to support its bulky weight it toppled onto the floor with a loud crash and Annabel started to slowly trek up the stairs, keeping her sword out for the time being. She heard a panicked yell from inside and her dark eyes met the fearful ones of one of the mobsters. He fumbled for his gun only to be impaled in one quick movement.

He let out a gasp of pain, looking down at the cold steel imbedded in his chest. Scarlet Flame easily tore through the lightweight leather vest, blood slowly leaking down the blade and dripping onto the floor. "Y-you...! You...won't g-get away with t-this!"

Annabel smiled. By Skorm, it was thrilling taking the lives of others. The way her adrenaline rushed through her body made her limbs shake and her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. _'Is this how Reaver felt every time he's killed someone? This feeling of power is just intoxicating.' _"I'm afraid I already have."

She twisted the katana deeper before yanking it out, enjoying the splash of blood as the criminal fell to the floor in a heap. The light faded from his eyes with his dying breath and Annabel stood over him with a malignant gleam in her cruel gaze. "Pathetic."

She sheathed Scarlet Flame for the time being and performed a quick sweep of the room to see if any more were hiding. Nothing but silence answered her and she stepped over the corpse without remorse or pity. She kicked over a small table, spilling the chessboard off of it and sending the pieces to the ground with a clatter. Still, no one withdrew from room. However, she knew that there was more than just one of the fools. There were always more.

Scowling, she searched for anything that could be a possible clue as to the whereabouts of the others, including Nigel Ferret himself. He was the main target of course; it didn't matter if she killed his pawns. As long as he remained, Bowerstone would suffer from his crimes.

The princess noticed a small trapdoor hidden underneath a desk. "Clever. But not good enough." She took two strides to it and popped it open, descending the ladder and into the true hideout. When her boots next hit the ground she noticed several large barrels full of wine, meaning she was most likely in the dining area.

Sure enough when she paused to listen she could hear the laughter and drunken swears of Ferret's men. With a sharp hiss she grabbed the handle of her katana and slowly drew it. The deadly steel came to life with flame and the aura of ensuing death was thick enough to choke on. It covered the princess in its wicked glory and when she entered the dining area, she noticed a few of the bandits shiver in fear to her delight.

"Well hello there boys," Annabel said with a sickly sweet purr, smiling malevolently at the thick stench of terror. "I do hope I'm not intruding."

At the opposite end was a bald man in his forties, his double chin giving him away as a man who indulged in the pleasantries of life far more than needed. His crisp grey suit stood out amongst the other rabble, meaning he was the one in charge. "And who the bloody hell are you to intrude on my magnificent operation?"

"Your despair, Ferret." The last words were spat out of her mouth like venom and with a snarl she swung her sword in an arc. The wave of magical fire ignited the alcohol stained tables, setting many of the bandits alight. They fell to the ground with screams of agony, trying desperately to snuff out the flames. Those who had survived rose to their feet within seconds, drawing their weapons in an attempt to slay their new, much more dangerous foe.

But Annabel was far too quick. Glancing over her shoulder briefly she spun her katana's scabbard to block the crude cleaver of one, the rusty metal meeting the perfectly crafted steel. "Weak." She turned on her heel and cut him open, Scarlet Flame's cruel blade ripping through his armour like scrolls of parchment.

A bullet grazed her cheek, a near miss. Growling in anger Annabel raised her hand and cast a fireball at the bandit who nearly took her out. The spell set him ablaze and he dropped his weapon with a scream. She rolled towards it, picking it up and scoffing. It was an old iron flintlock pistol, making it only good for a single shot at a time. Not the most effective weapon for her, but it would do for now until she could procure a much more suitable firearm. _'Damn. Was hoping for something that would be more reliable in a fight. Oh well.'_

Having holstered the pistol she stalked across the dining hall, taking a moment to enjoy her handiwork. The charred corpses of at least a dozen men lay on the dirty floor, still smoking, and she let out a soft groan of desire. Fourteen men lied dead because of her and she liked it. She was no stranger to death, having killed before, but something about taking another's life in combat was much more thrilling than simple murder. It was better than the finest of wine, better than sleeping with Elliot.

A heavy metal door blocked her way and she tapped the outside of it with her katana. "Your men are dead, Ferret. And if you don't open this bloody door, you'll join them." She had no intention of letting him live; he was far too dangerous of a man to be left alive and not worth much as a possible ally. It was merely a ruse to get him to open up.

"It's open!" came the panicked cry from within. Sure enough, when Annabel spun the handle it opened with a slow creak. Sitting by himself in front of a small fire was Nigel Ferret, and he was shaking as the princess drew closer to him.

Her katana was ready to spill his blood and he put his hands up in surrender. "I surrender. Please, don't kill me! I wish for you to entertain a possible proposal."

"You have nothing to offer me, Ferret," the princess spat with a snarl. "It's over."

"That is objectively devoid of merit!" Ferret protested. "I happen to have on my person a substantial amount of currency. Let me live and the money is yours."

"Interesting proposition, I must admit," Annabel quipped. "However, there is a slight flaw with it."

"Oh?" Ferret's eyebrows rose.

Annabel's smile grew wicked and in one deft movement she slit his throat with her sword. "What's to stop me from killing you and taking it anyway?" Oh how she loved the look of shock and horror in the criminal mastermind's eyes as blood poured out of the nasty slash. He raised both hands to his slit throat in an attempt to stop the crimson tide, but still it flowed through his fat meaty fingers and onto the floor. He tried to say something only for it to come out a strangled gurgle and he took two steps before collapsing. His blood formed a sickly red pool around his body and the princess sneered in murderous triumph. "Long live the queen."

Using her foot to roll over his corpse, Annabel opened up one of the pockets in his light grey jacket and found the man wasn't lying; Ferret did have quite a bit of gold on his person. One hundred thousand pieces, to be exact. _'Disappointing. You should have known I wasn't going to let you live. For you to think otherwise, you're a bigger fool than I initially expected.' _

Having carefully filled her coffers to the brim with gold and pocketing his golden pistol, she left his body behind and started to leave the hideout. Her adrenaline was slowly wearing off and she sheathed her katana, letting it dangle from her belt. It was done. The Ferret gang was destroyed and Ferret himself was dead. Not to mention she was rather well rewarded for her efforts. The gold would be a nice addition to the royal treasury, though she had to be careful as to how she deposited such a grand sum. Too much at once and the royal account, Hobson, would start to get suspicious as to where the funds were coming from. She didn't want everything coming back to her if she could avoid it. The more discreet she did it, the better.

However, there was another option. Royalty was no stranger to riches; it would be very easy for her to make up a story about how a wealthy member of society wished to donate some gold to help fund the kingdom's military. The soldiers themselves wouldn't question it, though there was the possibility that Logan would be curious as to who would make such a generous offer. If he did, he would start to question the kingdom's nobles until he found out the answer. However, if he did that, there was another possibility. The nobles would grow concerned about the king's questioning and start to think that he was losing his grip on reality. It would spread through their ranks and garner even more support for the princess. _'Ah, how nice it is to be consistently on the winning side. You thought you backed me into a corner, but I think you'll find I'm not so easily cornered, dearest brother.' _

Annabel paused as she passed the bodies of the slain men, noticing one of them was still twitching ever so slightly. He was just barely alive but still on the brink of death. With her lip curled she stalked over to the charred body and made sure to stomp as hard she could on his outreached hand, twisting her heel to break the bones. The scream he let out was pure music to her ears, her Will lines growing bright red, and she let her hand come to life with the furious orange flames. _'Die already.' _

Within seconds of her flames devouring the flesh of his face his screams stopped. Annabel scoffed and let her magic die, giving the corpse an extra kick for good measure. _'That was even easier than expected. By Skorm, those books about Scarlet Flame were no exaggeration; this sword really is that powerful. And now it's wielded by a Hero for the first time in centuries. With it, I will reshape Albion into the perfected image it was meant to be. Not this pathetic and weak imitation that my brother has reduced the kingdom to. Our mother would be so disappointed with your weakness, Logan.' _

Yes, that was it. She was doing her land a favour by usurping the throne. The longer Logan remained in his position as king, the further Albion would be dragged through the mud. By taking it for herself, she was saving it from its inevitable downfall; her mother had fought to unite Albion under her banner and the princess knew that she would have to do what was necessary to make sure that it didn't fall. If that meant ridding her kingdom of her brother, then so be it. She would make Albion stronger than Logan could even dream.

Such a pity that he wouldn't live to see Albion enter its new era of domination and power. If it wasn't Annabel's sword piercing his heart that killed him, it would be the bullets of her soldiers publicly executing him to send a message. A message that showed what fate beheld those who would dare to oppose their new queen. Some will undoubtedly die due to their own stupidity and inability to see her as the rightful ruler, but it was a small price to pay for the security and strength of the land. It was better to get them out of the way in the long run. Their blind ignorance would be their downfall and she would not let it poison her kingdom.

Annabel climbed up the ladder and was about to leave the hideout behind when she ran into a familiar face. "Why, hello Reaver. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The king of thieves flashed his dashing and dangerous smile, pulling a bottle of whisky from inside his jacket. "Nothing, my dangerous little sweet. I was merely enjoying a nice moonlit stroll. Not often I get to enjoy the simpler things in life. What are you doing here, if I may ask?"

"Taking care of some nasty business," Annabel replied, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to the hideout. "No doubt you might have seen some use for them in the future, but they were an obstacle. An obstacle I took the liberty of removing. Mind if I join you for a drink?"

"Why yes." Reaver handed her the bottle after he took a long pull, his dark eyes glimmering. "So, friends of yours?"

"No. We had only just met and didn't have time to get properly acquainted," the princess purred. She took a healthy chug, eyes slightly watering at the harshness of the drink. Whisky wasn't a beverage she was accustomed to, having mostly drunk wine or some form of ale. It was unusual at first, but once her tongue and throat got used to the burn it was rather pleasant. Much more potent than anything she ever had previously. She made a show of slowly removing her lips from the bottle before handing it back to him, not bothering to hide her chuckle at the slow groan of want Reaver let out.

"Enjoying something?" she asked with a sultry wink.

"You are one naughty little minx," Reaver remarked. "Oh, it will be a pleasure to ravage you."

"Now, now." The princess smirked. "You know our deal. First, you have to make Elliot experience an unfortunate accident that costs him his life. Then I will gladly offer myself to you." Had it been three weeks ago, she would have never even considered sleeping with the man. But now that he had opened her eyes, Annabel could see that he was so much more than Elliot could ever offer her. Charming, fluent in the arts, and dangerous like her. He understood that she was not some delicate maiden who needed protection from everything but rather a deadly inferno that could destroy an army.

"Of course, my dear," Reaver purred. "But that doesn't mean the two of us cannot have a little fun before it happens. My associate won't be in Albion for another few days. Journeys from Bloodstone can take time."

"Perhaps a sample of what you're going to get could hold you over for a bit?" Annabel offered, stepping closer to him with a shake of her hips. She smirked when she saw his gaze flicker down to her exposed thighs, licking his lips.

"Those look rather fetching on you," he murmured, wrapping one arm around her and resting his hand on her backside, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Though I imagine you'll look better without them."

"Kiss me," the princess whispered with a hiss.

Reaver's other hand wove into her long brown hair and he pulled her in for a chaste kiss. Annabel let out a soft groan of surprise, not used to this sort of forcefulness. Another thing she liked more about Reaver; he knew how to be rough. Elliot was far too soft.

And when she kissed him back, she could see the faint reflection of a demon in his darkened eyes.

_**A/N: And there we have it. Again, sorry it took so long to get out. But here we are and it's finally done. See you all again soon hopefully, since I want to get back on track. **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	12. Cutting the Strings

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 12. Been busy this last month with me working a fuck ton on just about everything and everything, but hey, it'll clear up in the fall and winter a little bit.**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Cutting the Strings***

Annabel quietly opened the door to her room, trying to make as little noise as possible. Jasper was still asleep, faint snores coming from his old mouth. The princess scoffed at the sight and crept into her more personal quarters, casting a quick glance outside. The black of night was slowly becoming a more indigo hue, meaning dawn was only a few hours away. There was still plenty of time to get some sleep before she had to properly wake up and go about her day.

She set her katana down, making sure to tuck it under her bed to prevent Jasper or her brother from seeing it. If either of them did, she would be bombarded by a swarm of furious questions and everything she was working so hard for would be thrown up in smoke. Everything would be lost to her and she could not stand the thought of that. Her pride would not let her wilt away into obscurity like another failed revolutionary. She was the princess of Albion, heir to the throne and a Hero.

The brunette took off her boots and set them next to her bed, undressing as quietly as she could. Left in her undergarments she crept into bed and pulled the covers over her head, a faint smirk of triumph forming on her soft lips. _'It feels nice to be consistently on the winning side. My goal draws ever nearer.' _

Yet another decisive victory was in her hands. Bowerstone didn't know it, but one deed would be enough to sway them into following her and her alone. Like puppets on a string, she was bending them to her will.

* * *

The next morning Annabel woke up bright and early. She had gone to sleep only four or five hours ago but she never felt so well rested. Every muscle felt relaxed despite her activities from the previous night and she lifted her head from her soft comfortable pillow. One hand slipped out from underneath the thick blankets and it came to life with her fires. Her magic felt somewhat stronger than it did previously, perhaps from her using it as much as she had. Her powers grew by the day, making her into a formidable opponent in battle combined with her training. She could defeat any soldier in Logan's elite guard with little effort and was able to beat Walter, a heavily trained warrior, without even suffering a single scratch.

With this much power at the edge of her fingertips, there was very little that could possibly pose a threat to her now besides the king himself of course. Hero or not he was still a formidable enemy. She needed more. Not more power, oh no. She knew that if it came to it her own powers rivalled those of their departed mother. No, she needed a little more time to hone her craft and become the most deadly Hero in recent history, surpassing her mother and bringing in a new age for her land.

However, her will alone was not enough for such a monumental task. It was only through the labours of her supporters, their toils, that Albion would be transformed into the beautiful utopia it was meant to be. Not this land divided by hatred and fear, but united under the banner of power and assurance. They would have the confidence that they could defeat any enemy foreign or domestic, and she was going to be the one to lead them into that new age.

But first, she needed to overthrow her dear older brother. The longer she waited, the deeper Albion would be dragged into the mud. But her eagerness to usurp Logan's throne was tempered by her cautious nature. Acting hasty would make her prone to mistakes, mistakes that she could not afford to make if her dream was to become a reality.

Annabel let out a soft hum and swung her legs out of bed, stretching her arms high above her head. She could hear the quiet chirping of birds from outside and with one eye lazily blinked open the brunette woman walked across her chambers to her wardrobe. Contrary to what Jasper believed she did not need some snivelling old man to tell her what to wear for any kind of royal appointments. She imagined the day would be quite busy; once word of Nigel Ferret's death spread, Bowerstone's streets would be bustling with the kingdom's citizens. Businesses would be flooding with new customers and the business capital of Albion would be more alive than it had been in years. All of it was thanks to her and she would not soon let them forget her deeds.

She threw on her more casual attire, fitting on a short blue skirt and leggings with a white blouse. She could do without all the damn ruffles on the collar; it made her feel like one of the posh imbeciles who constantly faked their adoration and praise for her brother. She may have been royalty but she was not like them and never would be. Wealth and good fortune wouldn't dictate who she was, but rather it would be her actions.

When she was finished getting dressed the door to her quarters opened and Jasper walked in with a grandfatherly smile. "Ah, hello madam. I did not expect you to be awake at this hour." He was acting as if nothing had happened between the two of them recently. Was it all an act or was it genuine? Had she perhaps been too harsh? Did he really support her cause as he pretended to? So many questions swam in her mind and she steadied her nerves. Getting wound up over them would break her composure and leave her foaming at the mouth like those lunatics her brother had locked up in Ravenscar Keep. Oh yes, Annabel knew all about their family's dirty little secret.

Ravenscar Keep was a massive prison on an island to the south of Albion's mainland, used to house the most dangerous enemies of the crown. However, Annabel knew that it also housed plenty of people Logan just didn't like or annoyed him. Guarded by the best of his elite soldiers, it was supposed to be impossible to break out of. Plenty of those prisoners would love nothing more than to see Logan fall, especially the most dangerous prisoners the keep housed.

The most dangerous prisoners in Ravenscar Keep's dark walls were the brilliant inventor Professor Faraday, the mad alchemist Mary Godwin, and of course the former general of the royal army, General Turner.

The general was the most intriguing of them all to her. Both of them shared a common goal, but whereas Turner wanted the monarchy overthrown and the castle burned to the ground, Annabel wanted the throne for herself so she could forge Albion into what it was meant to be. A powerful nation that even the greatest armies would fear going up against.

"Jasper, I have a question for you," she said, glancing over her shoulder at her butler.

"Of course, madam. What's troubling you?" her butler asked.

Annabel straightened up and faced him properly, her dark eyes burrowing into his. "Would it be possible for you to let me gain access to Ravenscar Keep? Don't look so surprised; I know damn well what it is, despite my brother's attempts to keep it a secret from me."

Jasper bowed his head. "I do not think I can authorise it, my dear. It is well within your right to know, but the king did not tell you about the keep out of fear. He fears you will be slaughtered there."

The princess curled her lip in frustration. Why did everyone insist that she was a weak little girl who could not handle herself? She was a Hero dammit, not some delicate maiden. She'd never allow herself to be ravaged by some pathetic inmates; they would have their throats slit before they could even lay a finger on her.

"I'm not a helpless little lamb surrounded by wolves, Jasper," she said with a growl. "My powers have grown stronger and I can beat any of my brother's soldiers in combat. Yet he insists on treating me like some sort of damn child."

"I know how capable you are, Annabel," Jasper admitted. "You have the potential to rival the Hero of Oakvale in terms of power. But he doesn't see you as a Hero. He sees you as his little sister. Perhaps he always will until you do something to change his views."

Annabel let her anger at her brother die down; there was no need to vent her frustration on Jasper, after all. "So what you are essentially saying is that I need to do something to impress my brother." _'What would make him see that I'm not incapable of defending myself?' _

The idea hit her and she resisted smiling. An assassination attempt on his life would be perfect. All she needed was someone who was willing to die by her hand after attempting to murder Logan. She was sure she could find someone willing to do the deed in Bowerstone's seedier districts; his approval ratings were at an all time low in the industrial sector and many of the residents would love nothing more than to strangle Logan with their own hands. The only catch was that she had to make it look genuine and not carefully thought out. She didn't want it coming back to her.

'_Ah yes. I stop an assassination attempt and that alone will be enough to convince my brother that I am fully on his side. He will begin to doubt his judgment and it will begin to break him.' _She clicked her tongue slowly and turned around so her butler wouldn't be able to see the glimmer in her eyes. "Thank you, Jasper. If you can, please clear out my agenda for the rest of the evening. I have business to attend to."

"As you wish. I'll see to it at once." Jasper bowed his head and scurried off to begin cleaning up her chambers. With him gone, Annabel could finally breathe a little easier. By Skorm it was difficult putting up this innocent air around someone who spent every minute of every day tending to her needs. Well, most of them at least. She did have Elliot for the time being to quell her more intimate urges.

Her magic came to life once more and she hummed. _'By the time my brother finds out about even the royal butler helping me, it will be too late. Everything he built and tended to so delicately will collapse around him. It will be burned to the ground until nothing but ashes remain.'_

She had work to do now.

* * *

Reaver hummed merrily in his extravagant office, glancing briefly at the several pieces of parchment that currently littered the large oak desk. A bottle of brandy was clenched tightly in his hand and he poured himself another glass. Having a nice drink to wash down an expensive and delicious meal was always refreshing, no matter how many times he did it. The bonus side effect was that the alcohol burning his throat drove back the painful memories of his youth. Memories of a weak pathetic boy so very terrified of death. Reaver killed him. He was weak and a coward. He did what needed to be done to move on. Destroy any ties to his previous life and rise from its ashes.

As he removed the bottle he thought of just how lovely the princess's lips felt on his. He hadn't had a kiss that raw in centuries; not since he was sleeping with Penelope and Ursula. Pity the wench set his bloody house on fire and murdered Andrew. Such a sweet and gentle boy, but too much of a heavy sleeper.

He didn't like to admit that he of all people had been beaten in anything, but the princess got him exactly where she wanted him. Annabel left him wanting more while she was more than content to tease him with a mere sample. Oh how he longed to pin her to his bed and ravage her like a filthy animal, hearing her wanton moans as he ploughed into her. He'd teach her a lesson about being a saucy little minx. Though perhaps that's what she wanted.

From what he had gathered from their conversations about him, Annabel needed someone to compete with her for dominance in the bedroom. Elliot was far too privileged and soft for a fiery woman like her. Maybe that was another reason why she enlisted his help in making sure the boy was murdered.

He really wished his assassin would hurry up and make it to Bowerstone already. It had been quite a few days since he left Bloodstone's harbour and since then he had heard no word from him. Reaver was not a patient man at heart; his Heroic blood craved the action of good old fashioned gunfight. Pity he didn't have any competition remaining in the world. He saw to that matter personally.

When he was building his renown as the finest shot in all of Albion, he was visited by the master marksman Wicker. The man had come to him with a proposal to see who was truly the greatest gunslinger, proposing the two of them have a friendly duel to settle the ridiculous rumours. Reaver's response was to shoot him in the head. Wicker was fast on the draw, no doubt about it. But Reaver was the king of pirates and the old fool didn't anticipate his reaction speed. The only one who was able to match that dexterity was the late queen Sparrow. Often times during their arguments they would each draw their weapon; Sparrow a finely crafted katana and Reaver his favoured Dragonstomper .48. Despite tensions between them never fully dying down, neither of them made the move on the other. Yet he often wondered if her blade would meet his heart before his bullet reached her. He doubted it, however when it came to dealing with Sparrow, it was best to be cautious rather than a fool. He knew what the woman was capable of even in her old age.

He had no reason to doubt that Annabel possessed the same sort of potential. He had yet to see how she handled a firearm, but he knew that she was still remarkably skilled in swordsmanship and her magical capabilities. Killing off Nigel Ferret and his crew was proof enough that she was not one to be trifled with.

It was a pity to see such a useful pawn go, but he had long outlived his minor usefulness. Ferret was good for keeping the people of Bowerstone living in fear and resenting the king, but once Reaver ignited the fire in Annabel's ambitions, he simply had to go. He was no longer a resource but rather an obstacle. And like any other obstacle, he had to be removed. Starting a bloody coup was a messy business after all and someone of Reaver's stature could not afford to be associated with a criminal like Ferret. It wouldn't do well for his image. With Ferret lying dead in the basement of his filthy corner, Bowerstone was Annabel's for the taking.

He had seen to the matter personally, by visiting several major businesses and telling the owners of her deeds. When they learned that the princess of all people had successfully put an end to one of the major criminal enterprises in all of Albion, they were unable to keep themselves from singing her praise. All of it was well earned if one asked him; even if she was a Hero she was greatly outnumbered and sometimes numbers can overwhelm even the most powerful of warriors. But she showed the strength of her resolve and slaughtered every single one of them like they were helpless lambs. The poor bastards didn't stand a chance against someone like her.

Reaver let out a groan of frustration, a noise he didn't often make. He only did it when other people were being tedious and downright irritating. At the pressing moment, his damn contact from Bloodstone was being one of those things. He was assured by the leader of The Society that the assassin would be in Albion within three days. It was nearing the end of the third day and patience was never his strongest virtue despite being several hundred years old.

He had been in contact with The Society for about two centuries now. Leaders had come and gone but he was always a steady source of income for the guild of assassins who were always deadly in their line of work. As they were so fond of saying whenever one needed someone murdered, they were swift bringers of death to beggar or king. No one was safe from them. However, they never did like to get personal. They were, in every sense, professional assassins. They did the job however the client wanted it.

Reaver was considering sending another letter to Mr. Blank expressing his disapproval when the pirate king heard soft footsteps briskly approaching his office. He didn't even bat an eye when the man in black entered, a single steel katana dangling from his back. "You must be Master Reaver. Mr. Blank always spoke fondly of you."

"Yes, I'm sure he has." Reaver poured himself and the assassin a glass of brandy, offering it to him. "Care for a drink?"

"No thank you," he politely declined, shaking his head. "I never like to drink on the job. Mr. Blank was rather mum on the details of the contract, so I wish to ask what they are."

"Your target is a noble boy in the castle, Elliot," Reaver answered. "You won't be able to mistake him for anyone else. He follows the princess everywhere like an obedient little dog. How you kill him is up to you entirely. The only request is for you to make it look like an accident."

"Understood sir. I shall see to it at your earliest convenience." The assassin left as quickly as he entered and Reaver smacked his lips.

Annabel would get her wish granted, and he would soon get his.

_**A/N: Sorry it took much longer than usual to get out. Work and life have been a bitch to me. **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


	13. Love Hurts

_**A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 13. A rather unlucky number but one I'm always fond of. This story has no traffic due to the fandom being dead as fuck but hopefully with the release of a new game soon we should see this quiet little corner fill up.**_

**Dark Desires**

_Summary: When Reaver is bored in the throne room waiting for the king, he and the princess, Annabel, have a talk about her one day taking the throne. He didn't expect to help her in a bloody coup._

***Love Hurts***

Annabel was in her study, writing a letter to the current head of Brightwall's council, Zachary. He had sent a letter to her directly expressing his satisfaction that the funds she sent him were more than accommodating and that he would be eager to do business with her regarding some renovations to the town in the near future. Brightwall was one of the newer village's in the kingdom but improvements could still be made.

Her quill scratched against the parchment and she glanced up as her study opened. Jasper strode in with a glass of imported rum from Oakfield's famous Sandgoose tavern and he placed it down in front of her. "You've been working long hours even if you're not in the court, my lady. I thought you would appreciate a refreshment."

"Why thank you." Annabel took a break from writing her letter to have a taste. She had heard many tales from her late mother about how lovely the rum was; it was after all the special of Oakfield. The tales did not exaggerate in the slightest. When the first sip passed her lips she found herself wanting more of it. Powerful and smooth with a hint of exotic fruits, it was a dream.

"Where did you get this, if you don't mind me asking?" the princess asked, setting the glass down and licking a few stray drops from her lips. "This is not exactly easy to come by in Bowerstone."

"The king had some delivered from Oakfield," Jasper answered promptly. "With all the stress he's been under he thought a few bottles of Sandgoose rum be more than sufficient to ease his worries. Even royalty can find themselves buried under pressure."

"Indeed," Annabel murmured, picking up her quill and dipping it in the ink vial. "Did my brother ask for me at all?"

"No he did not, madam." The old butler shook his head. "In fact, I have not spoken to his lordship at all today. He seems to have retired to the war room and has barred intrusions of any kind. Nevertheless, I do hope he is alright; the last thing this kingdom needs is a king who is unfit for duty."

'_You speak the truth, my friend,' _the princess thought. _'I have been unnecessarily harsh on you in the past, but these small gestures will not go unrewarded. I promise you Jasper, once I am free from the ridiculous shackles my brother has put on me and I sit on the throne, you will reap the benefits.' _

She picked up from where she left off, waving her hand. "Thank you, Jasper. Please, leave me be. I really must finish this. Don't worry; I will be done shortly."

"As you wish, my dear." Jasper bowed his head and without another word excused himself from the study. When it came to those who constantly interrupted her on a daily basis, few were as fine of company as Jasper. The old man was perfect to have a small chat with and he never overextended his visit. She liked that businesslike attitude of his.

It was far more tolerable than Elliot's insistent pestering. The boy was like an irritating fly; no matter how many times she swatted him away, he would always find his way back to her. He was constantly bothering her at the most inopportune times and now she had to remind herself that killing him with her own hands would be sloppy. She had an assassin who would do the job for her, hopefully very soon. She wasn't sure if she could deal with him for one more day.

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't heard from Elliot all day so far and it was already nearing the afternoon. Perhaps she had gotten lucky and the annoying little prat had been murdered already. She just hoped that the assassin Reaver hired for the job made sure to follow the instructions to the letter; the more it looked like a tragic accident the better. _'It will certainly make my life a lot easier. I won't have to worry about Elliot barging in on me in the most inopportune times anymore.'_

She dipped her quill back into the vial of ink and finished her letter. She only had a few words left to say to Zachary and preferred to keep her letters with her various contacts brief as to not arouse too much suspicion or let something slip. Annabel let her quill fall from her hand and she stretched, feeling the joints in her fingers crack a little.

The princess started to hear a large commotion outside and she stood up from her desk, frowning a little. "What the bloody hell is that?" She hoped to Skorm it wasn't another damn protest; she had to deal with one of those already and shifting the blame onto her brother was difficult enough of a task. Having another one would be a nuisance.

Her fist clenched as she called upon her magic, letting her fire surround her hand. Annabel brushed passed a few elite soldiers until she reached the main gates and her eyebrow rose. It wasn't a riot, not by any means. Instead of seeing people yell in protest and throw objects at the castle, the crowd was gathered in a very large circle around something or someone. Her heart thumped anxiously and she stepped outside, pushing her way through the crowd. "Out of the way. What the hell is going on?"

She stopped when she saw the body. It was Elliot, or rather what was left of him. If she didn't know any better she'd say it was impossible to identify the corpse in the slightest. But there was no mistaking those clothes or the bloodstained brown hair. It was most definitely him.

Annabel's eyes widened and she fell to her knees in front of Elliot's body, taking one of his stiff icy hands in hers and letting her magic die. If it was a private affair, she'd have let out a victorious laugh at getting her wish. But with it made public, she had to put on the mask of deceit and let everyone believe she was devastated.

"Elliot..." A few fake tears slowly trickled down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she had applied. "How? How could this happen?"

"Madam...he fell into one of the machines in the factory," one factory worker murmured quietly, head bowed in mourning. "We warned him that it was dangerous, but he insisted. We heard the screams and rushed over to help him, but it was too late. He was gone. Such a sweet lad. Always had his heart in the right place."

Annabel's eyes were squeezed shut and she picked Elliot's corpse up before walking back into the castle, casting a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You may all go."

Once she was inside, the castle doors closed shut and Annabel carried the body away to the castle gardens, setting it down amongst the nightshade and juniper berries. Now that she was alone, the princess's fake sobs turned into little more than a laugh of triumph. "Finally...finally free from that frustrating little boy." _'Your assassin did well, Reaver. I was all for drowning him in Bower Lake where there would be no witnesses, but doing it in public and out of sight no less? I have to congratulate you. The Society has more than proven themselves to me.' _

The shadowy organization of assassins had earned themselves perhaps one of their most influential clients in their history by assassinating Elliot in that fashion. It was bloody, gruesome, and looked like an accident. She couldn't have scripted it better.

Her laughter stopped and she turned her attention to his body. Sure she would love nothing more than to let the crows feast on the remains, but questions about why she didn't bury her supposed 'beloved' would surface. Not to mention the foul stench that would circulate the castle for weeks. Annabel's palms ignited with flame and she set Elliot's corpse ablaze. Her dark eyes met his glassy ones and her lips curved into the faintest of smirks. "You couldn't have honestly thought I would let you live, did you dearest Elliot? You were nothing more than a pawn in this grand scheme of mine. Forgive me, _my love_, but your usefulness had come to an early end. Love hurts, doesn't it? I wish I was there to see your face."

She stopped her barrage of magic and lowered her hand, scoffing. "Not like you can hear me though. Long live the queen of Albion."

The princess didn't glance back at his burning corpse once as she retreated into her study. After all she had a bargain to keep with Reaver for using his services and she wouldn't dream of keeping him waiting for too long. She had learned long ago to never set her expectations too high lest she be disappointed, but she knew that when it came down to the art of sex, Reaver was unmatched. He had centuries to hone his techniques and she couldn't help but shiver in anticipation.

Annabel looked away from Elliot's burning corpse and ran a hand through her hair, combing it to the side. She wanted to look her best for when Reaver arrived. Knowing him, he would be arriving at the castle in a short time to 'share her grief'. She hoped he would whisk her away to his mansion for the evening for their celebration. The fewer people who knew about her affair with the businessman the better. As much as she wanted her name to be carried on the winds, she knew that not everything would be good for the public to know.

She left Elliot's body behind; it was smouldering nicely and would be nothing but ash in maybe an hour. That meant she had an hour to herself and there was no better way for her to be occupied than with the pleasant company of Reaver and a bottle containing the strongest alcohol she could get her hands on.

She might have to pull a few strings to get her hands on such a bottle but it wouldn't be too difficult considering her status. She was more than confident that one of the barkeeps in Bowerstone would be happy to accommodate her, considering her 'devastating loss'. It was almost amusing seeing how the fools thought that she would be stricken with grief over losing him when the cold reality was she couldn't be happier. Finally, one of the biggest annoyances in her life in recent memory was nothing more than that. A bitter memory that would not be able to follow her around like a lovesick puppy. To think that at first she once thought she loved him, it was almost laughable.

When it came to Annabel, love hurts. Especially when it isn't returned. He was such a sweet and caring boy, too much for his own good. The irony of him being killed while trying to help someone was not lost on her and it was simply gorgeous. She couldn't have scripted it better. Elliot was always too kind hearted in nature for his own good. She wasn't able to recall her ever saying that his selflessness would get him killed, but if she did once, she never expected to mean it literally. Some things were just too well played.

Annabel left the gardens behind and stalked into her chambers. Inside, Jasper was waiting for her with a fresh set of clothes and a new pallet of makeup. His old eyes were sombre and he bowed his head. "Your majesty. I just heard the news about Master Elliot's unfortunate accident in the factory today. I warned him that going there was unwise, but he did not heed my caution. It is a grave reminder that even if our hearts harbour pure intentions, the worst may come to us at any moment."

"Indeed. His caring nature will not be forgotten, especially amongst the ranks of Albion's elite," Annabel agreed. "His optimism, as foolish as I sometimes thought it was, will be missed in these trying times. I hate to bother you, Jasper, but would you perchance be able to acquire something for me today?"

"Of course, my dear. This is a terrible time for you. What is it that you request of me?" he queried.

"I need you to try and find a bottle of Any Port In A Storm," the princess answered. "It was Elliot's favourite drink after a long day of work and I wish to have a toast to him in his memory."

"Port? Unusual. I thought he favoured something a little more delicate like The Yellow Fairy." Jasper frowned. "Must have been someone else. Very well, I shall go to the city at once. It shouldn't be too difficult to find. Where will you go to toast him?"

"Bower Lake." Annabel took a cloth and started removing the makeup she ruined. "He always did like walking down to the gazebo during the night." _'I also recall him saying he'd love to eventually be wed to me under the gazebo's roof. The cruelty of celebrating his death with my new lover is sweet.' _

"Bower Lake? Madam, please do stop me if I seem to be insulting, but the route to Millfields is fraught with peril. Bandits have been pillaging wandering traders trying to get to the city for several weeks now," her butler warned. "Perhaps it would be best if an escort was sent with you?"

"No need." Annabel shook her head. "I'm grateful that you're concerned for my wellbeing, but even Sir Walter agrees that I am ready to start making a name for myself and forging my own path. I'm not a child anymore and it is time I took those steps. Remember that my own mother began her journey as a Hero when she was two years younger than I am."

She didn't bring up the fact that she had a sword that had seen more than its fair share of bloodshed. Her magic was growing stronger the more she used it and she could feel it. After all, she doubted she could have wiped out Nigel Ferret's entire criminal empire without her powers, even with her superior training under Walter's tutelage. In single combat she would be able to best them, but all at once? If it weren't for her Heroic powers and reflexes she would have been slaughtered like the rest of the vile organisation's victims. All her careful plotting and manipulation would have all been for naught. She couldn't have that. Her pride wouldn't let her fail, not when her ambition was so close to her she could taste it.

"Very well, madam." Jasper bowed his head to her again. "I shall see to it that the court knows that you will not be present for the evening so you can grieve by yourself. No disruptions will come to your door whatsoever." Faithful no matter what. Annabel really did appreciate how loyal he was.

Annabel let out a sigh and looked outside at the plumes of smoke from the capital's industrial sector. "Thank you. I appreciate it immensely."

Oh how she could not wait to meet with Reaver.

* * *

Dusk had fallen and Annabel took a slow pull from the bottle of Port that Jasper had been kind enough to fetch for her earlier in the day. She was seated under the white marble of Bower Lake's gazebo, waiting patiently for Reaver to arrive. It was almost surreal to think that beneath the gazebo lay the Chamber of Fate, the only surviving piece of the long since destroyed Heroes Guild. Her own mother unlocked her power there and here she was about to meet the man helped start her own bloody path.

Annabel had taken extra time to prepare herself, having dressed in a short skirt and revealing crop top that highlighted her bosom. A pair of black stocking rose to her thighs and her heeled boots

She didn't have to wait very long; not a few moments after she swallowed then she saw the tall silhouette approach in the dim light of dusk. "Ah, there you are."

Reaver approached her briskly, a smirk on his lips. "Didn't have to wait too long for me, did you my little sweet?"

"Not at all," she said with a purr, standing up to greet him. "I only arrived myself perhaps ten minutes ago. Certainly did not want this moment to slip by. But tell me, how beautiful was it?"

"Perfection to my ears." Reaver laughed. "I don't think the fool even knew what was happening. The screams were...quite delicious."

"Pity." The princess pouted. "I wish I could have been there. Still, art is always appreciated more when it is a surprise."

"That it is, my dear." Reaver licked his lips at the sight of her cleavage and even during dusk she could see the glint in his beady black eyes. "You certainly dressed for the occasion."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint, would I?" Annabel leaned down a little for Reaver to see more of her. "Now, are you just going to stand there talking, or are you going to claim your reward?"

One of the Pirate King's hands settled on her backside, giving it a squeeze. He spun her around and kissed her, taking her by force. The princess mewled against his lips, dropping her bottle of liquor and weaving her hands into his hair to tug it. By Skorm it was so refreshing to be with someone who knew how to play rough, just the way she liked it.

He firmly gripped her rear and already his hand was sliding underneath her skirt to rub between her legs. Annabel let out a wanton groan as his slender digits massaged her covered folds, sending a pleasant rush of heat to her core, and his lips left hers to suckle on her exposed neck.

"Ravage me..." she whispered pleadingly, wanting to feel more. She yelped out as he bit her, though it quickly turned into another moan as he continued to tease her. She pressed herself into his chest, tugging at his messy black hair and pulling at his jacket's collar. Eventually she pushed it aside and nipped at his collarbone, moaning as his fingers slipped inside of her. Elliot never did that to her and she was glad to have someone much more thoroughly experienced. By the gods, how could have been with someone that dull for so long?

As Reaver teased and toyed with her, she found herself spreading her legs further and further apart to let him do what he wanted. His warm breath tickled her ear and he licked at her neck. "Tell me how bad you want this." Ugh, that husky purr was going to send her over the edge.

Annabel managed to look him in the eye and give her answer. "I want it...more than anything..."

Reaver chuckled and kept his slow teasing with his fingers, thumb gently massaging her clit. "Good girl." With that sentence alone she knew she was his. And he could have her however he wanted.

He pushed her against one of the gazebo's columns for better support and his fingers reached all the way inside, hitting that one spot that Elliot could never touch. Annabel shuddered, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. His devilish smirk never left his face and he yanked her head back by the hair, though the rough treatment did little more than make the princess want him more.

She could feel her legs beginning to tremble and he curled his fingers inside, grinning. "Already nearing your peak, dear?"

Annabel gasped out a weak moan as she clenched down on him, riding out her orgasm. He removed his fingers from her, the digits covered in her essence. He stuck one of them in his mouth to sample a taste, humming. "Quite a nice taste you have." When he was finished he dragged the other finger across her lips before kissing her, both of them getting a taste. A bit of heat rose to Annabel's cheeks as she tasted herself, though she knew that the depraved act was going to be only one of the many they would be partaking tonight.

When they pulled away from their sloppy kiss, a thin trail of saliva was still connecting their lips and Annabel panted. "M-more..."

She rubbed her knee against his crotch, feeling his firm length. He growled and just that sound alone was enough to make her needing him inside. "Take me, Reaver."

"In public, no less. I applaud you." Reaver undid the buttons on his trousers and let them drop, letting her get the first look at his manhood. Like the rest of his body it was long and not extremely thick, but it was still much bigger than what she was used to. When morning came she was certain to be sore afterwards.

Annabel let her skirt drop and she stepped out of it, gripping his length and stroking it. "You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment..."

"Me neither," the Hero of Skill agreed. "Are you ready, my dear?"

"Yes." Annabel nodded. "I want you." Her panties fell on the ground and Reaver scooped her into his arms before lowering her onto his erection.

The princess let out a quiet moan as he entered her fully, feeling herself get opened up. Her moan was silenced by a raw kiss from her newfound lover and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he began to thrust.

The sheer power behind his movements was enough to make her head spin. How can a man so slender possess such strength? By no means was Reaver a heavily muscled man, but by Skorm did he have a lot of power in him. Each thrust of his would send shockwaves through her body and she moaned happily into his mouth, enjoying the feeling of him claiming her as his trophy. Her breasts sprung free of her crop top and he stopping kissing her to suck on one of them, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nubs.

"U-use me more!" Annabel gasped out, moaning as he continued to pound into her. Her thighs were wrapped firmly around his waist to keep them both stable and for a moment she wondered what would happen if someone were to discover them. The thrill of being caught having sex with someone not even a day after her 'beloved' was killed in a tragic accident did little but arouse her more. If they got caught then so be it. She'd only enjoy it even more.

"Heh. To think that you, the princess, is begging for me to shag you like a common whore in public. What would you do if your dearest brother spotted us?" Reaver whispered, biting her neck to leave marks.

"He can die like the rest," Annabel spat back, growling as Reaver forced himself deeper into her. "I'm your prize."

"That you are." Reaver pulled out of her for a moment, making the princess whine impatiently. However she wasn't prepared for him spinning her around so her back was facing him. She looked over her shoulder and wiggled her hips to entice him. He grasped her firmly and pushed into her again, groaning as he filled her. His thrusts became much more violent in this position, his length hitting the very entrance to her womb. Each time he hit her she would cry out in pleasure, feeling herself tighten around him to get him to finish exactly where she wanted him to.

She rode out her second orgasm of the night with a weak whimper and Reaver slammed himself fully inside before reaching his own peak. He groaned as he emptied himself into her, the princess's mind going blank as she felt his warm seed splash into her eagerly waiting womb. There just so much of it and when he finally pulled out of her she could feel it slowly oozing out.

Reaver's erection was still firm and when she regained her senses she crawled over to him, licking at the tip. "That's not all you have, is it _Master _Reaver?"

"Not at all, my little sweet." Reaver chuckled and scooped her into his arms. "For the encore, though, we will be going somewhere a little more...private."

Annabel's heart skipped a beat. Now this was the love she had been so desperately yearning for.

_**A/N: So, a long ass delay turns into smut. Are any of you really surprised? It is me after all XD. Thank you for reading and have a good day/night! **_

_**A Lovestruck A2#5371**_


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